Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Generations of Casualties

I am sure that when I tell people that my grandfather served in three wars (World War II, Korea, and Vietnam) they imagine a hero. Likely, they think of him as a young man—painfully kissing a young woman goodbye as he heads off to serve his country. Quite possibly they think of a dignified old man—one who flies a flag outside of his home and suits up each Veteran’s day and displays medals proudly in his living room.

Neither of these pictures is accurate.

I never met my grandfather. He died 6 years before I was born. He was drunk, and he got hit by a car. From what I have pieced together, he got drunk because he was upset that my father cancelled dinner plans with him. We do not know for sure if it was an accident. When he died, my grandfather was attempting to make amends after abandoning his wife and seven children a decade earlier. Before he left his family, my grandfather regularly beat my grandma. And before that he served in the military. 

And before that—well I actually have no idea because I never met my grandfather, and I don’t speak with my father that much.

I write these things not to speak ill of the dead, but rather to be honest about the person my grandfather was—the person that decades of war created him to be.

I know few other things about my grandfather.

I know that when he married my grandma, she had a child from a previous relationship. I know that he treated my oldest uncle as if he were his own child. Last summer when my Grandma Bridget passed away, my uncle talked openly about the “good times” with my grandfather.

I know that my grandma kept his name in spite of the abuse and ultimate abandonment she suffered. I know that she spoke kindly of him in spite of everything she endured, which I suppose says more about her than it does about him. 

I also know that my grandfather lost a dear friend in World War II. The story goes that upon being deployed in the Pacific Theater, he was fatefully reunited with a childhood friend. Throughout their time together they became so close that made plans to return home and become roommates. Shortly before the war ended, my grandfather’s friend was killed by a bomb. And my grandfather watched it happen.

When I speak about my grandfather, it is important to include all of these stories. Except, I don’t actually know any of this. That is the thing about not knowing someone—everything you know about them is second hand. And, in my case, most of my information comes from my father—and most of that information was told to me only once in my life—and that “once in my life” was quite a while ago.

Today is Veteran’s Day—and for some reason I have been thinking about my grandfather all day. I have been thinking about the effect he has had on my life. Honestly, I hadn’t given it (or him) much thought until today. Obviously, my grandfather is an integral part of my existence. But his impact on my life runs far deeper than that See—as I mentioned above, my grandfather had faults, and those faults colored the way my father viewed the world. My father never raised a hand—or even his voice—to us. But he also grew increasingly absent throughout my childhood. He has struggled with addiction, depression, and insomnia. Some of this is inherited, some of this is environmental—and some of it stems from the guilt he feels for the night his father died.

I don’t know my father, but I know that the night my grandfather died changed his life forever. He has no reason to feel guilty, but he is human, and humans feel guilt even when it’s illogical.

As I’ve reflected today, I wondered how different my life would be if my grandfather had lived. Then, I wondered how my life would be different if my grandfather never went to war. Then I wondered how my life would be different if my grandfather received proper psychological services when he returned from war.

And that’s the thought I can’t get out of my head. Perhaps if my grandfather would have been properly cared for in the years following his military service, he would not have done some of the terrible things he did. Perhaps he would have been able to grapple with his addictions and his anger in a better way. Perhaps he wouldn’t have left his family. Perhaps, my father wouldn’t have left me.

In this rabbit hole of Veteran’s Day thoughts, two things occurred to me. Firstly, I realized that many of us are walking around as casualties of wars that ended decades before we were born. I certainly am. I realized that if this is my family’s story, it’s likely the story of many others.  How many of us children of single mothers can trace our daddy issues back to granddaddy issues? And how many of those granddaddy issues can be traced back to Veterans abandoned to deal with their issues on their own? Secondly, I realized that we need to stop deifying veterans. Salute a veteran, sure. Observe a moment of silence in honor of veterans and fallen soldiers, of course. Thank a veteran, absolutely. Ignore the darkness that war inflicts on all people involved? Absolutely not. We need to make sure that our discussions of and with veterans recognize their humanity—because we cannot do anything to improve the situation of veterans until we acknowledge that they are more than heroes—they are humans. 

Perhaps if society had collectively viewed my grandfather this way, my story and my family’s would be different.  



Wednesday, June 18, 2014

just keep running, just keep running.

Well, here's to New Year's resolutions. This year, one of my New Year's resolutions was to write on this blog more… and here we are, six months into the year, and I am posting my first blog. I did, however, have one semi-successful New Year's resolution once, and that is what is on my mind today.

This week, I had a bit of a scare. After a long day of walking and carrying groceries on Sunday, I developed excruciating back pain and numbness that ran down my leg. I've had similar issues before and they went away on their own with stretching, ibuprofen, and a little bit of light exercise--but this time it was so bad that I couldn't even walk down the stairs in my apartment building. So, I decided to go to a chiropractor, in Lincoln Square which I would highly recommend. When I met with the chiropractor, he informed me that my pelvis was rotated and did many wonderful chiropractor things that made me feel quite a bit better, but he also showed me some awesome things to improve my mobility (did you guys know about foam rollers?) and gave me running advice.

Anyway, chiropractor-tangent aside, the back pain scared me because I wasn't able to move regularly. I wasn't able to walk very easily, and I certainly wasn't able to run.

Today I went for a run. And as I ran, I thought about running. And here are some of the things I thought about.

1. Four years ago, I resolved to run the Boulder Bolder--a 10k race in Boulder, Colorado (for all you non-runners/non-Coloradoans). Admittedly, at the time much of my motivation was related to weight loss--I was not at a very healthy weight, I hated running, and I was getting married in six months. The first mile I ran on the journey, I ran in twelve minutes on a treadmill in a crowded rec center with my friend Kim about 25 minutes after I finished a pint of beer. I was shocked that I could still run a mile which I hadn't done since my junior year of high school, and I quickly learned never to drink a beer before running again. I never ran the Boulder Bolder, but I did discover that I actually like running.

2. Unlike four years ago, my motivations for running now have nothing to do with weight loss. Of course, I want to run to keep myself healthy, but I run because I enjoy it, it makes me feel good, and I love to conquer goals that I have set for myself. 

3. I am so thankful that I am strong enough  mentally and physically to push myself to run--even on hot days.

4. I have been troubled lately by people who treat exercise as penance for eating things. Sure, everyone needs balance in their lives but I like to enjoy my food without thinking about how much exercise I will need to do to "work it off." I ate a donut today. And I ran today. I did not run today because I ate a donut. I ate a donut because I like donuts, and I went for a run because I like runs. 

5. I have been wearing the same outfit to run in for at least two and a half years. (Don't worry I wash it.) I like to think that is because I don't care too much what I look like when I run (shout out to Kelly Cook for planting this idea in ninth grade). In fact, I look really terrible when I run. My face gets really red and blotchy, if I run in the afternoon, my makeup from earlier in the day runs, and apparently I get crazy eyes, etc. etc.  In fact here is a selfie:
Not my greatest look, but I am smiling because I don't care--I just went for a run that challenged me, and there were times I wanted to stop, and it wasn't my best time ever, and it was hot, and I smelled someone grilling, and I just wanted to stop and eat a hamburger, but I didn't. I went on a run which is something that I actually couldn't do on Monday. 

So, looking back at the whole two blogs I have posted, I see that my number one goal for this year was to run a half marathon. And, I really do plan to keep that resolution. 

Sunday, December 1, 2013

25 Things I Would Like to Do in My 25th Year

Every year around her birthday, my dear friend Betony makes a list of things she would like to do in the coming year. She puts one item per year on the list. I have always loved this idea, but in the last few years, my birthday has snuck up on me before I actually made the list.

This year, I am turning 25.

And, friends, I am trying to handle it with much more grace than I did when I turned, say, 23 (where I cried and lamented the loss of my youth…) I want to own this year. I want to look back on it and know that I spent time doing things that I wanted to do. I hope that completing (or at least nearly completing) the items on this list will help me to reach my overall goal of living more intentionally.

So, here they are. 25 things I would like to do in my 25th year:

1. Run a half marathon. I have wanted to do this for a long time, but this year, I will make it happen!

2. Train for a half marathon. This is not an unintentional repeat. I know that if I don't put the training on my list, the actual running of the half may never happen. It's also important for me to realize that the path to the race is just as important as the race itself (maybe more important…).

3. Organize the tupperware cabinet. I am not sure I've ever seen anyone with an organized tupperware cabinet. I could be the first!

4. Try food from a different country each month.  I live in the most ethnically diverse zip code in the US, obviously this is on the list! First up, Korean.

5. Go to the John Hancock Tower. I was able to visit the Willis (Sears) Tower this year, but I heard the Hancock Tower has a different and really cool view.

6. Do daily devotionals from The Book of Common Prayer. Zach and I were great at this for the first half of 2012, and it was such a fantastic rhythm, but we fell out of practice at some point.

7. Learn the location of each of the 50 states. Yes, fifth grade somehow failed me--and I'm sick of having only a very general idea of where each state is!

8. Truly enjoy each season through seasonal activities. (I'm starting with the advent calendar Zach and I made!)

9. Read at least one book a month for fun. Which means I will also be watching less television!

10. Drink more water.

11. Ride my bike more.

12. Learn the names, characteristics, and actual locations of the neighborhoods around me.

13. Walk from my apartment to downtown Chicago. It's about 8 miles. Zach and I have been wanting to do this but didn't make the attempt before it started getting cold.

14. Go to the beach. I live somewhere with a beach now!

15. Watch more improv.

16. Bake more. I enjoy it so much and there are so many new things to learn how to make!

17. Participate in a poetry slam. This is the scariest one on my list. I have a poem written and practiced already. I just need to do it!

18. Give up screens one day a week. For my eyes/brain/soul.

19. Grow in my job.

20. Write grants successfully! I have a dollar amount in mind, but I don't want to limit myself…

21.  Go camping. This is a bit tougher now that we live in the city without a car, but I love to camp, and I really want to go this year!

22. Go to a Cubs Game. Because I think you have to if you want to live here.

23. When it comes to coffee, drink predominantly black. I really love it, but I always get suckered into the idea of a latte… which I never finish, anyway.

24. Find a regular volunteer position.

25. Continue spending time with my awesome small group.

Monday, November 25, 2013

How Moving to the City Slowed My Life Down


Six months ago, my life was completely different.

My husband, Zach, and I lived in the smallish town where we grew up. We lived near both of our families and saw both at least once a week. I was knee deep in teaching research paper unit to my eleventh grade English Class. I was on a slew of committees each with their own weekly, biweekly, or monthly meetings. And I was in the middle of changing careers, applying to grad school, and planning a community art show. It sounds pretty crazy, but my life has always been like that.

Then I moved to the city. And everything froze.

It was just me, Zach, and the third largest city in the nation. For the first time possibly ever, I had to be still.

There were no more weekly family dinners. There were no familiar faces when running to the grocery store. There were no meetings. There were no students.

At first it was a bit lonely. Coming from a large family, I am energized by being around people. A lot of people. All the time.

Zach and I didn’t meet anyone in our building for two weeks. We explored the city. We watched copious amounts of Netflix. We slept in. In the beginning I was restless. I resisted my new empty schedule. I found volunteer opportunities. We jumped into a small group at a church we’d only attended once. I started seeking out Kiwanis Clubs.

Then, one day, three weeks after moving, I realized I had something going on almost every day of the week. Suddenly, I was stacking obligations on one another, and I wasn’t very passionate about any of them.

So I took a step back. I started to cut things out of my life one by one which is something I had never done before, and something I probably could not have done if I had stayed in Greeley.

Once I cut things out of my schedule, I actually had time to do little things I had always neglected (read: dishes). Zach and I have spent our entire marriage jumping into things we thought would make us adults. We have piled on so many external responsibilities that we often let the little things go—it was easy to do when we were running from one thing to the next constantly. When we moved here we actually took the time to cook (almost every night!), wash the dishes (right after dinner!), and make our own coffee (which makes our moms happy, and saves us tons of money).


None of the things I have just listed are remarkable. But they are things adults do. Things that Zach and I felt like we “skipped” in the busy-ness of our first years as adults. We needed to remove some of the time-clutter in our lives, and moving helped us to do that.

So, I am trying something new, something I've always wanted to do, but never found the time to. I am taking the time to live intentionally. And, as part of living intentionally, I want to write more. I love to write, but one of the sad truths of being a super-busy English teacher is that your hard-pressed to find time to write. My hope is that this blog becomes a place where I actually write.