The Crone’s Daily Groan

October 19, 2007

Fickle Weather In Wisconsin

I should be in bed but I took a 3 hour nap this after noon and I sort of doubt I will be able to get to sleep. Especially since I drank 2 coups of coffee. <derr>

I was in so much pain when I woke up this afternoon I could not believe it. <Ouch omigawd Ouch> I finally got up and took a skelaxin. I don’t like to take those if I don’t have to. They aren’t addictive perse but as with any medication you can become dependent on them and tolerant to their effects. I don’t want to use up my tolerance factors. :^/

I turned on the radio and found out why I hurt so bad. I meant to go to ZuZus for open mic this evening but there was a tornado watch. In October! That’s awfully late in the year.

That means the barometric pressure was either high or low. I forget which way the mercury runs when a storm system is coming through. I think it’s high but won’t swear to it. Whichever it is, it has a tendency to give people with rheumatological disorders conniptions. All their connective tissues start swelling up and aching. I wish I had a cigarette.

Since I don’t know how the dog would react during a storm I decided I better stay home. Damnit. It would not be good to go off and have a bad storm hit and the dog get scared out of his wits and make a mess. There was no storm, the dog didn’t get scared and he didn’t make a mess. However, Patches has thrown up every time she has eaten since Monday night.

She has come out from under the desk though. She is sitting on the dresser watching the dog watching her. He wants to play. She wants him to get off of her bed and vacate the premises. They are adjusting to each other. I like having a dog.

The Vet recommended a Gentle Leader Headcollar to help train him to walk at a heel and keep control of him on busy city streets. Pure magic! It was an instant success. He is walking at a heel now and not pulling my arm out of the socket. He doesn’t like it because it takes the control away from him but we’re both much safer with it.

I think tomorrow I will have to pull the alpha dog bit on him because he has settled down and started trying to run the show. Not in a totally obnoxious way just sort of being obstinate and rebelling when he doesn’t want to do something. He’s not very treat motivated either.

I hope the tornado watch means that a warm front has moved in.  I would like very much to take Igor and go for a walk along the lake tomorrow–up towards Picnic point.

B

October 1, 2007

Can You See My Eyes? Gimme That Hair!

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer hair
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair
Grow it, show it
Long as I can grow it
My hair

The Cowsills

I have fairly long hair–long enough that when I sit down it catches against the back of the chair and annoys me. Unfortunately, I am beginning to experience the family curse. Alopecia Areata. In other words, I’m balding. I started out with incredibly thick hair so its taking awhile.

I’ll admit it. I’m vain about my hair. I think it has always been my best feature. It’s a medium auburn, it’s shiny, and it has a lot of natural body. If it wasn’t so thick and heavy it would be curly and was when I was a little girl. I love my hair. Yup, I’m pretty attached to it.

I’ve been wearing my hair parted(going north you might say) so last night, I was standing in front of the mirror brushing my teeth minding my own business when a wild hair (all puns intended) struck me. Bangs would look nice. Before I could stop myself, I had a pair of scissors in my hands and I was snipping away. Voi`la Bangs!

I hope I don’t regret this. My favorite way to wear my hair is up in a french twist and it would do this really cool swoopy thing before I cut the bangs. I’m guessing I won’t get the swoopy thing anymore. But I’m not cursed with a forehead you could land a 747 on anymore either. <heh>

I think I like them. I washed my hair this morning and fiddled with them a bit and it’s going to be a lot easier to keep my hair out of my face without using lots of product on it. That’s a good thing as Martha would say.

I wonder what my daughter will say. She’s the beautician of the family. She’ll probably be peeved I didn’t wait and let her do the honors. Ohhh well. I need the ends trimmed and I’ll let her chop a couple of inces off.  I quit “covering up the gray” so there’s some dyed stuff that doesn’t really match.  I’m going to be a lovely silver when it all turns.

My daughter wants me to get it cut short. She thinks I’m too old for long hair and she could give me a really cute cut that would be much more flattering. I tell her I’m doing the Tyne Daly thing and MYOB. My daughter wishes I was a more sterotypical suburban Grandma type Mom. She doesn’t appreciate my free spirit radical hippie style. Whatever.

Hopefully my hair loss will continue to be gradual and I won’t end up going whole hog with Areata Universalis which is complete and total hair loss over your total body. Yeah, even down there. The good news is you don’t have to shave your legs anymore. The bad news is that you have to paint on your eyebrows and use false eyelashes. Wigs are optional since Sinead O’Connor.

I hear through the family grapevine that my Aunt Kathy Jo who is the same age as I am woke up to find her beautiful blonde hair in bed with her one morning. It stayed there while she went to breakfast which is exactly what happened to her mother,, my Grandmother. I suspect she hit menopause and that was the triggering event.

I am still peri-menopause I think–I have had a hysterectomy so I don’t know. However, I haven’t had any of the typical symptoms until just recently, maybe. The last few days I have had what might be hot flashes and Iexperienced night sweats two nights in a row. Maybe I’m finally THERE. At 55 it’s about time.

Imagine, I could have conceived a child up to this point or that’s what they told me three years ago when they did a hormone study–USE BIRTH CONTROL. I think a hysterctomy that removes the cervix is a pretty good form of birth control don’t you?

My Grandmother and all of her brothers and sisters had Areata Universalis. It was pretty bizaare. They also had a mottling loss of skin pigmentation which I have but not nearly to that degree. I AM very fair skinned. It may have been this condition: Vitiligo.

All that to say I have a new ‘do. I like it.

If I go bald I’m getting a tattoo on my scalp. I’d love to get it tattooed all over with fake curls in multi-colors but that’s out of my budget. Dunno what yet. Maybe “Naturally Bald and Proud of It

B

September 28, 2007

They Like Me, They Really Like Me

Filed under: Blogging, Copywrite, Dane101, Ink, Isthmus, Living with a Disability, Madison.com, Writing — bairbresine @ 9:24 pm
Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when your position falls, your ego goes with it.

Colin Powell (1937 - )

Can I just brag on myself here? Give myself a big old pat on the back and say job well done? Or am I just being way too full of myself?

I don’t cry anymore when this happens but boy the first six or seven times, I bawled like a baby because it was such a balm to my err…OK, soul. Whatever it is that makes a human being a unique individual. Alright I’ll admit it, it strokes my ego and my ego really needed stroking as far as my writing is concerned.

I have trouble finding my words sometimes. The technical term for this is aphasia. I seriously have a big problem holding a conversation because I cannot say the words I want to say. Same thing with writing but it doesn’t matter if I sit here half an hour trying to find the word or concept that I am trying to express. It doesn’t matter if I just wander away and do something else like wash the dishes or read a book and come back two hours later. No one knows.
When it kept happening I started putting tic marks on the wall. It’s like being a 1st or 2nd grader keeping track of the As you get. It’s probably a little silly but to me those tic marks are huge accomplishments.

The Isthmus Daily Page quoted my Blog about “The Death of A Salesman” in “Living in the Edge of Madness.” That makes fourteen tics for the Isthmus Daily Page, five tics for Dane101, and two tics for Madison.com.

And if that’s not enough to make my head swell, I got a shout out from one of the top guns of the Blogging For Hope, Rich at Copywrite, Ink (cool name, huh?). He says I made him laugh. <big ole goofy smile>

Thanks everybody.  I hope the thrill never wears off.

B

September 3, 2007

Waxing the Moon-a poem

WAXING THE MOON

Polar bears waxing the moon against
a starry starry night, pools of swirling light
like a Van Gogh painting, the speed rushes
through your veins and up your spine tingling
out to your extremities like the second coming of Jesus!
Praise God! But inevitably the collapse dawns
like waves beating against the quay and that sucks
you under, draws you out into the sea of tranquility
until you are so tranquil you can hardly
cast your eyes towards that waning crescent of lunacy
as it slips beneath the horizon followed by the shaggy bears
who droop along after it in another cycle of despair.

This is a condesation/distillation of three pages of train of thought writing that I did after watching a man who lives in my building pace back and forth in the courtyard of my building one night in the week before the Harvest Moon in October 2004. I told Larry that I thought he was probably bi-polar because of the way he moved. I have since become acquainted with him and we have traded war stories about being manic depressive.

B

July 11, 2007

Living In the Here and Now with Gratitude

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude.

Denis Waitley

What you are about to read may not sound as if it is about gratitude at first because I bitch a lot but really, it is. I get there eventually. Honest.

I’m cleaning my bathroom. Really, I’m taking a rest from cleaning my bathroom. sigh… I can’t clean the whole damn thing without tuckering out anymore. I have to sit down and take a break. It used to be a cigarette break but I don’t smoke anymore so I can’t blame it on that anymore.

I’m just too damn tuckered out to stay with it. This sucks.To be fair to myself I did go over to the southside to see Harry today which meant a long bus trip both ways and then when I got back downtown I went to the Community Pharmacy (my goodness, a whole month has gone by already!) and while I was waiting for my order to be filled I wandered down State Street to Steep and Brew in the hopes I would meet up with someone I met recently. That didn’t pan out but I did meet up with the person who introduced us and I asked him to pass the message on to her that I was very much interested in seeing her again. He will. He’s good people.

All of that meant a very big tiring day. For me. For normal people that probably sounds like not all that much. No big deal A hassle maybe with the bus-ride down to the coliseum but not really much of anything to exhaust you the way it exhausted me. :^|

My get up and go got up and went somewhere in the mid 90’s and it never came back. I can actually pinpoint the approximate time it left. My son had a severe car accident in Oshkosh in 1996 around 9PM on a cold February night shortly after his 25th birthday and by the time I got hold of his sister and girlfriend and we got on the road it was nearly midnight.

We got there just in time to greet him when he came out of surgery. We stayed up all night with him trying to keep him calm and steady as he suffered through the pain of losing his spleen and a head injury that made him kind of goofy. For the next week and a half I used up my vacation time running up to Oshkosh every other day and spending the night and getting up at gawd-awful hours to get to work on time while the girls took the other days.

Basically I wasn’t sleeping much at all which is not a good thing for someone who is Bi-Polar. We can do it. Oh yes indeedy, we can. We feed off of lack of sleep. The less we get, the more hyper we get. Eventually we start running on fumes, believing we are super heroes who can do anything and have to be shot down by family and friends and dragged off to the hospital to bring us down to earth or we collapse in a heap of sodden dross like I did.

I caught a cold that turned into bronchitis that wouldn’t go away. It took three weeks to recover from that and then when I went back to work I would be there a day or two and get sick again. This went on for two months before the doctor recommended I take a leave of absence and just rest until I felt like my old self. I never got well enough to work full time again. I’ve never felt like my old self again. I came to the sad realization that I never will some time ago.

My Doctors (boy you wouldn’t believe the specialists I’ve seen) discovered my anti-nuclear antibodies are elevated which probably means I have some sort of auto immune disorder. It hasn’t been diagnosed yet because auto immune disorders are extremely difficult to pin down. I’ve since discovered that there are many many people on both sides of my family who have auto immune disorders and on my father’s side with which I seem to have the most similar symptoms in common the various doctors who are treating these people all disagree about what is going on.

What they do agree with is that I have the symptoms of chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, arthralgia (similar to arthritis) and neuropathy. I also have something going on neurologically but they aren’t sure what so there isn’t a name for it but I have vertigo aometimes not all the time. I fall a lot. I have some short term and long term memory problems with language. It’s not really aphasia because I don’t have a lesion but at times I just can not say or write a word I want. It’s there but I can’t get it out. Maybe it’s early onset Alzheimers. Ugh… I was being treated for suspected Lupus of the central nervous system for five years, including a low dose of chemotherapy for more than two years but Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN does not believe I have Lupus which is a relief because Lupus is one nasty disease. I’m going with their opinion simply because the other option was so depressing.

At any-rate, eventually I had to give up and accept that I would probably not be able to work at all. Not only that, I had to give up driving my car and my moped. I had to get used to the fact that instead of being able to function on 5 hours of sleep a night I needed at least eight and sometimes ten AND a two hour nap in the afternoon if I was going to stay out of the doctors office with minor ailments.

I was only 44 years old when this all began and this was not what I had envisioned my middle-age would be like. AT first I thought the Doctors would figure out what was wrong and the miracles of modern medicine would fix me right up. WRONG.

I had just moved in with the man of my dreams a few days after Christmas just before my son had his accident. Our whole lifestyle was meant to be built around the outdoors and playing golf, swimming in his in-ground pool, riding in his T-top convertibles, taking care of the landscaping on the ten acres he owned and gardening and they tell me I probably have Lupus and can’t be in the sun? WTF?

It still took a full year for that to fully sink in and take hold. I had no idea what Lupus was. Then I went to the library and got a few books. Meanwhile I started having massive headaches and couldn’t read the damn books! I found out that for the first time in my life my better than perfect eyesight was going to hell and I had to get glasses to read with. OK, I WAS middle-aged but still, on top of everything it was just another blow.

What kind of cosmic joke was this? My perfect guy’s got a five bedroom McMansion (OK it’s not all that fancy but it’s huge) that needs to be cleaned and even though he is doing half of it, I was still not up to keeping up with my half. He was understanding and all that (we’d been dating for better than a year) but you know what, I could tell he was feeling cheated and I don’t blame him. Instead of a partner to share his early retirement coming up soon, the asset he was looking for, had become a liability. NOT GOOD.

I left. He argued with me about it but not too hard.

Sometimes I still get mad about all of this. Like when I have to take a break cleaning the bathroom for gawd’s sake. I used to be able to thoroughly clean a whole house without taking a break because I was tired. That was Saturdays. On Saturday when I mopped the kitchen floor, I pulled out the refrigerator and stove and cleaned behind them. Every Saturday. I was just a little obsessive compulsive. But it bugs me that there’s a bunch of dirt lurking under there now. eeeew!

I’ve learned to accept it more because what the hell, I don’t have much choice do I? This is my life. It took me all weekend to recover from spending the 4th of July and the day after with my kids. I fried chicken for them on the 4th which is the only day all year that any of us eat fried chicken. My daughter and I fry it out on the front porch and we all giggle about being rednecks and wave at all the people driving by in their antique cars. The Gr-son and his Daddy shoot off some of their fireworks.

The next day I flew a kite with my Gr-Son in the morning and took him swimming in the afternoon. I’ll treasure that memory for a long times. I hope he does too. We had a good day. He was really good for me. My son and I went out for dinner at A&W when he brought me home and we had a good talk. I had a good time with my kids but it was exhausting. It took me all weekend to recover. I pretty much slept the whole weekend away.

I wanted more for myself than this but this is what I have and I’m grateful I have this much because it could be worse. It could be much worse. All I have to do is look around me and see how much worse it could be. Each day is a gift and I’m happy. Really, when you think about it, what is there to bitch about? I have a nice soft bed to sleep in after I get home from visiting the kids. I can walk down State Street and say hello to people I’ve known almost twenty years who don’t have families or don’t know where their families are, who are homeless and don’t have the luxuries I have. Life as I know it IS good.

B

June 18, 2007

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I was “talking” to “Iggie2Cats” over on The Delphi Forum Social Blunders about her Grandmother’s funeral. My Gran’s funeral (33 years ago come Thanksgiving weekend) was lovely too. Not as lovely her grandmother’s sounds though. It was paritally Quaker and the Friends believe in getting up and bearing personal witness to the departed person’s good life.

Our church was pretty staid. We had a “funeral dinner” that the church ladies cooked afterwards though and that’s where the story telling took place. The “remember whens.”My missionary cousins who grew up in Japan were horrified by all the laughing and undignified behavior going on. They kept saying their mother would not approve. I was perplexed by their lack of understanding of American Midwestern culture and their rigidity. They had been Japanized or their parents had lost touch with reality.

I have many good memories of my Gran. I was the only Grand-daughter who lived nearby for a good many years as she grew older so I was sort of her “favorite.” It wasn’t that I was more special than the other grand-daughters; it was just that I was there. Had they been there instead of me, it would have been they who benefited from my Gran’s needs instead of me.

I took piano lessons from about age 8 to age 13 and she not only paid for them, the dear heart had the piano and sat through the practicing. She would make me tea or cocoa and give me a “recess” during my hour so we could chat. I spent two hours with her every day. I suspect that she did this so that she would have some companionship and so that I was there while she cooked her dinner.

She was surely giving her poor ears a break during “recess” as I am dyslexic and could not play properly without watching my hands until I had the song memorized. I struggled to learn though because it meant so much to her and even if it took two weeks to learn one song, I carried on. Poor Gran. But she persevered as much as I until the piano teacher moved out of town. I can still sort of read music. But I have to watch my fingers while I play piano. Or type.

Quaker services are wonderful. I am agnostic/atheist. I have written out instructions that when I pass I want to have a Quaker-like funeral. On the cheap. My children are not to spend any money at some lavish funeral home. My children’s father had a funeral similar to a Quaker funeral. They said it was very moving and comforting to know how loved their father was by so many people. So was I.

I think mine will probably be held right here in the community room of the building I live in. Or at the Senior Center in case my “enemies” want to crash the party like they have been since I’ve lived here. I hope I pass in the spring so the flowering trees are in bloom in the courtyard and it is a sunny day. They can fill the room with lilacs! Or maybe fall because then my favorite Sunflowers are available and cheap. I want some songs to be sung and played on the boom box and I want people to be given some refereshemnts and then I want my kids to mingle with my friends awhile. No preaching. Maybe someone who is good with owords will get up and speak but I sort of doubt it. Ye gods and little fishes, it sounds like I am planning a wedding. <heh>

I am donating my body to medical science here at the University of Wisconsin-School of Medicine because I have a rare auto-immune disorder and I want them to study it so no viewing of the body and no real need for a funeral home to be involved. I hope that my children are present at my departure and so do they because that will mean I have time to prepare for it.

But then again, departing suddenly while I am doing something I love to do would not make me unhappy. Gran likely had a massive stroke making her pumpkin pies. My father on the other hand, had a brain aneurysm in the hospital. He must have had some inkling that something was going on because he buzzed the nurse and though he could not talk he smiled and squeezed her hand before he went into a coma.

They had to resuscitate him and hook him up to life support until the entire family could be notified and agree to turn those machines off. If even one of us had said no, he could still be alive today with machines breathing and feeding him. Terry Schiavo only worse. He was truly brain dead. Flatlined.

One of my brothers was a salesman and was on the road. We had no idea where he was and could not take any action whatsoever until we got state troopers in three states involved and they finally pulled him over on his way home. That was a horrible way to be told your father is dying.

I had to wait until my husband came home off the road to travel from Wisconsin to Nebraska. (I had faxed my notarized permission to the hospital) The last thing he wanted to do was get in a car and drive another 800 miles. So I did most of the driving while he and the kids slept. Daddy was already gone by the time I got there though.

I will have to be embalmed and if my kids want to use a funeral home and can afford to I guess that’s up to them but the University will do it for free. Seems silly to pay for it. But the funeral home will make me look nice and if the kids want to spend time with me after I die I guess I should look nice. <heh>

Well, in that case I wonder if I should plan what I want to wear or let them decide for me. I kind of got a bit of comfort going through Gran’s closet finding her favorite dress and beads for her. I had them put her worn Bible in her hands. I have so many memories of her sitting in her chair in the “front room” studying her Bible. Bless her heart. I guess I will let my daughter or my grand-daughter if I ever get one have the pleasure of going through my closet if they want to.

Whatever other medical research they can use me for at the University is OK too. Then-my body will be cremated and the remains will be returned to my children. They planted their father’s remains under an oak tree in my daughter’s yard. I want to be buried under a lilac bush or in a sunflower field.My son still has a small vial he carries around in the pick-up he inherited from him almost 10 years ago. I think that’s macabre but kind of sweet at the same time. He told me he is going to mingle his Dad’s ashes and mine when I die. Like *that’s* going to work some kind of magic. I just laugh at him but you know, in a way that is kind of a comforting thought. It’s like being buried next to your loved one.

BTW, everyone young and old should have a living will. Your family and significant other should know exactly what you want to have happen if you become incapacitated and unable to make medical decisions for yourself or unable to communicate your wishes. I don’t care how old you are, you need to do this. Do NOT burden your family with these important and heart rending decisions during emotionally traumatic events. You never know when you might meet tragedy.  My father was 47 years old.

B

June 16, 2007

The Civil War Ain’t Gone With the Wind Yet, Folks!

MerlinsDad and I began this discussion in Email and I brought it to my blog because I thought it was a good topic for my legacy to my Grandkid(s). See Ain’t I a Woman too and Kiss of the Blarney Stone for the build up to this post.

I had a big crisis of faith thing going on when I hit my teens. I had always had “inappropriate” questions, even as a child. I remember asking things and getting a very negative reaction from my Mother. My Father was much more open to discussions about whether there was or wasn’t a god. He’s also the one who told me there wasn’t a Santa Claus when I got upset because my brothers had ruined a doll and I was afraid Santa would think I didn’t appreciate my toys.

I was raised in a very fundamentalist bible banging christian church sort of like the southern baptists but so arroagant that they call themselves THE Christian church. (My friend MerlinsDad sent me this link to the History of The Christian Church extant.) Seriously. They are every bit as bad as the Catholics they preach against and condemn to Hell from the pulpit which happened to be more than a quarter of my family. Not to mention the boy I happened to be dating. That was kind of freaky but I really didn’t pay much attention until…

I was a junior in high school when Sunday school sunddenly turned into this crazy dump on the Catholics free for all. We took up the subject of Revelation and according to The Christian Church’s teachings, every bad thing mentioned in Revelation is connected to the Catholic Church. I got seriously pissed about it.

I’d already fought the battle of evolution vs science as a sophmore and in spite of my doubts, I’d refused to cave. I stood firmly with the christians and would not write one word that did not agree with biblical teachings. Were they proud of me for having the courage of my convictions? Hell no, they were not, the damn hypocrites. They told me I should have written what was required to pass the test. Even the pastor called me in and counseled me to do that.

Do you want to know who told me he was proud of me for having the courage of my convictions? My biology teacher, Mr Hefty, that’s who. He allowed me to write a paper to make up for flunking that test. He told me he believed that evolution and creationsism could be reconciled but he wasn’t my spiritual advisor so he wanted me to argue my side of the equation and how creationists countered the theory of evolution.

Fast forward about 15 years. I’m now living in Wisconsin and have explored every kind of sect and denomination of christianity within driving distance, including Mary Baker Eddy’s Christian Science not ot be confused with Ron L Hubbards Scientology. Every damn one of them have left me with a bad taste in my mouth and a headache. So I gave up trying to find a church I liked and just did my own thing.

I was going to college and was sort of a professional student. I loved the art of learning in a setting where you surrounded by so much intelligence and could choose to go as deeply into one or more subjects as you wanted. One of the things I was studying was Cultural Anthropology.

Cultural Anthropologists look at the culture they are studying as objectively as possible. Every aspect of human life is supposed to be observed and examined in minute detail to gather the facts without judgement or bias towards a thesis. That’s the ideal situation. Eventually when all of the facts have been gathered The Anthropologists can begin to make hypotheses about a culture.

One of the aspects of a culture that gets studied in minute detail is religion. All known cultures have had a belief a in a higher creative power and a creation myth of some sort. Studying the religions and anthropology fascinated me and I beban to see a pattern emerging.

I wanted to see what else the halls of higher learning could tell me objectively about religious belief so I took a Political Science course about religion. I don’t remember its name anymore but it was about how various religions impact and influence politics and a real eye opener for me about separation of church and state issues.

My favorite class of all in this religious quest were two Sociology of Religions classes that discussed various religious movements and finally we arrive at the Civil War.

I lost all of my reference books due to the ending of a relationship so I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. In the early 1800s the United States saw the beginning of a great upsurge in interest in religious movements and evangelical fervor amongst the mainstream churches as well as experimentations with new forms of religious expression and beliefs. There was a great deal of fragmentation amongst the protestants in the United States due to the fact that none of them can agree on what my friend Max reminded me are called ordinances rather than Sacraments as the Catholics call them in THE Christian Church.

There were so many preachers and Pastors out there stumping for the common man to convert to the denomination dujour that the northern New England area, particularly in the New York area became known as the “burned-over area” becasue it was believe that every man, woman, and child worth saving had heard the message of Christ’s “Good news plan for salvation.”

Traditional Christianity was the main force but it was not the only religious movemnt afoot. Of particular interest to me because it was bizaare and eventually because of my interest in re-enacting is Spiritualism.

The Fox Sisters are usually given credit for having started the Spiritualist craze here in the USA but in my opinion, they just capitalized on something that was already afoot and got their pictures in the New York newspapers first. It’s exceedingly hard to point a finger at one person and say Him or Her but Emmauel Swedenborg seems to have influenced most Spiritualists although I doubt he would have had much truck with any of them.

There were many famous Spiritualists in the USA and Abroad. The Fox sisters are considered the “first” but I don’t buy that designation at all. They were just the most popular in the beginning of the Great Spiritualist movement that began before the Cival War and reached its peak in the late 1800’s. So you see, all of this “New Age stuff, isn’t so new after all. It’s just been pulled out of the closet, dusted off and dressed up in today’s fashions. Check out Theosophy for an example of a New Age religion that was begun by Madame Blavatsky under the banner of the Spiritualist movement.

There were many famous people who consulted Spiritualists for messages and guidance from beyond just as we see today. Ronnie and Nancy Reagan caught a lot of flak for consulting astrologists during their stay in the Whitehouse. Abraham Lincoln supposedly brought a Spiritualist into his Cabinet’s “War Room” and discussed top secret battle plans with him. Those rumors have not been substantiated.

What has been substantiated is that Lincoln and Mary Todd invited several different Spiritualists to the White house after their second son died. They had soirees featuring the most famous Spiritualists of the day complete with seances and the events were duly reported in the paper. It caused a great stir of excitement amongs the more fundamentalist christian voters and is probably partially responsible for Lincoln’s approval ratings sinking so low just before his re-election. That and the fact that the war was going so horribly–rather like Iraq today.

I became an agnostic (meaning I don’t know absolutely that there is no higher power with god-like abilities such as omnipresence and omni-prescience) atheist (meaning I absolutely do not believe in any of the gods that I have been presented with so far) while I was pursuing these studies. I was an English major so I was also studying the anciet mygthology of traditional Rome, Greece and Egypt as well as The Europeans and British Isles. It became very clear to me that not only were religions manmade but so were the gods people worshipped. It was so patently obvious that gods were created in the image of the men and the cultures they lived in. I simply could not force myself to “have child-like faith” and believe what I had been raised to believe. I never had bought that story about Jonah and the whale. Stomach acid and poop. What about all that poop? I realized I had been a heretic my whole life and I gave up all pretense of being anything else.

So when I became a Civil War Re-enactress I decided to portray a middle-aged (in the mid 1800s middle-aged was about 30 years old) Irish widow with several young children to feed who took up Spiritualism as a way to earn money. She’s a sham of course but she puts on a good show.

She and her husband were Irish Tinkers or Travelors which is the Irish equivalent of European Gypsies and may very well have been descended from the same ancestral stock. They travel around Ireland to this day seeking itinerant work such as fixing pots and pans or sharpening knives in the 1800s which is why they were called tinkers and oftentimes the women told fortunes and begged with thier children to supplement their incomes.

My Persona and her husband came to America because of the Potato famines and he was hired to take the place of a wealthy New Yorker who had been conscripted into the Union Army. This was not only legal, it was encouraged because Lincon’s government needed cash more than they needed men to fight and they didn’t want to tax the people anymore than they absolutely had to so they came up with this system of allowing the wealthy to buy their way out of the draft. They could pay a poor man to take their place and they had to pay a substantial fine to the government for the privilege. And everyone was happy.

I came up with this persona because part of this is the true story of how some of my ancestors got their start in the United States. My however-many-greats Grandfather was a paid substitue for some rich New Yorker in the Civil War. He then re-enlisted so he and his wife and children could claim citizenship. After the war he re-enlisted for the the Indian Wars in the Nebraska Territories so he could have first choice at a homestead and finally they all settled down out in South Dakota.

Re-enacting is putting on a living history event in which people like me and the guy I was dating dress up in ridiculously hot clothes and pretend to be people who lived more than 145 years ago. We try to live exactly the way they would have lived without killing ourselves with food poisoning or heat stroke. That means sleeping on the ground with maybe a feather matress or a pad with cotton batting. But usually not. Generally you make do wiith some hay or straw thrown down on the ground, a couple of quilts and a rubberized tarp to keep the damp off. As the weekend goes by your bed gets shorter because your horse has to eat.

Everything you eat is cooked over a campfire in castiron or directly in the coals. The wind is always blowing in whichever direction the smoke will get in your eyes. Your dishes are tin and rusty or enamelware if your character is rich enough to be able to afford that on a camping trip. The soap is homemade and harsh. It invariably rains at least one night and floods the tent getting everything you own wet so you have to wear wet clothes the next day which will be hot and muggy.

All of this is done while other people who have paid to see this event are watching you. In effect you are an unpaid actor or actress who has to purchase hundreds of dollars worth of equipment for the privilege of being uncomfortable for 3 or 4 days at a time while people stare at you and wrinkle their noses at your body odor. Gosh it’s fun! Winter is known as “The Grumpy Season.”

Since I’m not all that into the clothes I mostly chose to wear black widow weeds except for the dances at night and then I became a widow on the make and seduced my Sergeant so he’d let me sleep in his tent or vice verse depending on where it was convenient to pitch the tent. <heh> Lots of the women got into re-enacting so they could dress up in the hoop skirts and beautiful dresses that women wore in the first half of the 1800s.

This is the Brigade or what-ever you call it I was attached to in their civillian unit. He was with the Artillery Unit. He’s the one that is dressed up in those funny clothes with the goofy “Oh boy, it’s my turn to shoot the cannon look in his eyes! ” standing in front of the wheel.

I’m having a bittersweet Kodak, Hallmark memory lane moment here. My illness has taken such a toll on my life. I absolutely loved re-enacting but I could not do it. I would get sick for days after an event as if I had food poisoning when in reality it was sun poisoning and sheer exhaustion. I would feel fine while I was there but damn the hangovers were a bitch and I wasn’t drinking the water or liquor… We drank bottled water in stainless steel canteens covered in canvas. <heh>

B

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