75 years of Regeneration

“Regeneration takes a lot of energy.”My Octopus Teacher 

My mom, to the far left, with two of her relatives, Charles Paul and Jimmy Clarke.

My husband, John, and I were watching a popular documentary entitled, My Octopus Teacher.  While I could see where this movie would not be for everyone, as self-proclaimed nature lovers, John and I enjoyed it.  At one point during the movie, the octopus goes into long term hiding after one of its arms is torn off by a predator. The narrator explains, “Regeneration takes a lot of energy,” and I knew, upon hearing those words, there was a lesson for me.  

Regeneration is a word used in both biology and theology.  In its most basic definition, it means, according to Merriam-Webster, “to become formed again.”  It can also be described as a process of renewal and restoration.  Upon reflection throughout the following week, the concept of regeneration became more nuanced.  In fact, I began to contemplate the way in which I have observed forms of regeneration.

My mom, bottom row, second from left, with her older brothers; Leo, bottom row, second from left; Ralph, top row, third from left, their wives/kids; and her parents, top row, far left.

Mentally shuffling through life’s deck of cards, I began to notice all the ways in which various relations and friends have gone through numerous cycles of “forming again.”  My siblings, my parents, members of John’s family, and even John and I have experienced several crippling and/or painful stages that felt as if a limb were cut away only to witness the miraculous resilience of the human spirit once more begin to help each person renew and restore.

In fact, by the time you read this, Dear Reader, I will have, along with my three siblings and other family members and friends, created ways to help my mother celebrate her 75th birthday on May 7, two days before Mother’s Day.  Mom’s birthday was also her mother’s birthday, and I can’t help but notice, as part of the natural aging process, Mom not only looks similar to Grandmother, but also possesses many of Grandmother’s mannerisms.  

Mom’s mother, my Grandmother. They both shared May 7 as a birthday. Throughout her life, she experienced several life-altering events for which she had to regenerate.

“Sometimes the strength of motherhood is greater than natural laws.”–Barbara Kingsolver

Like Grandmother, Mom has had to go through numerous stages of regeneration that I am only now beginning to appreciate in order to achieve 75 years of life.  Like all humans, Mom went through the obvious metamorphosis that is the infant through teen years, then into the young adult years, and the mid-life adult years. Now, she is fully immersed in those golden senior years for which Mom assures me aren’t always so golden!  

As her oldest daughter who entered her life before she began her second decade of life, I have been a partial witness to moments of time when Mom has been forced to restoration phases.  While it would be easy for me to offer commentary on these significant moments, I haven’t lived in Mom’s skin.  Therefore, I cannot pretend to know the level of upheaval or turbulence that certain events must have generated for her.  All I know is that if there is one thing Mom is good at doing, and thus modeling to all of her children, is the power of regeneration.

From left to right, Mom’s parents, Mom, my Dad (her first husband), and his parents. All of these beloved family member has/had to experience multiple times of regeneration.

“A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take.”–Cardinal Meymillod

On Mom’s birthday, I did something I had only done one other time this school year (and that was due to John having surgery), I took a day off work to help her celebrate her mid-septuagenarian birthday.  A few weeks prior, Mom invited me to attend her Friday morning Jazzercise class in Ironton, Ohio.  The music playlist of Meghan Trainor, as per Mom’s request, would be choreographed by instructor, Rita Isaac.  

“After all, I only turn 75 once,” my mom said to me with only a hint of heavy-handed inducement.  

To celebrate her milestone, Mom purchased cupcakes for her fellow Jazzercizers!

As I pondered my decision, I considered the past 17 months or so of Mom’s life.  Her husband, Jim, was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia, and due to the rapid progression of this disease, Mom was forced to make the painful decision to place him into an assisted living center.  This decision had to be made in the middle of the COVID pandemic/quarantine when patients in these centers were dying by the thousands.  Thus, it was by no means an easy choice.  

This was followed by a succession of deaths, including one fateful funeral in which Mom, and several family members in attendance, contracted COVID.  The virus clung to Mom like a wine stain on a favorite shirt–there was no quick way to wash it away.  Afterwards, came more deaths of loved ones, never-ending quarantining, and a winter that would likewise regenerate in unexpected ways.  

Through it all, I witnessed Mom scratch, claw, and climb her way through each blow that life offered.  Thankfully, she had, and continues to have, a devoted support system of friends and family to lend her a hand and/or an ear.  Additionally, there was, and is, a professional cadre of further support at Marshall Health Senior Adult Care.  Nonetheless, these past months required much internal restoration that only Mom could do for herself, and that Dear Reader, is the lesson to this story.

Several of her Jazzy friends left early, so unfortunately, I wasn’t able to photograph everyone in a group. Mom is center, and to the right of her is the instructor, Rita Isaac, who created and choreographed the Meghan Trainor playlist/workout!

The latest regeneration of Dolores, my mom, is flourishing as I witnessed on May 7 in her Jazzercise class. Once she was able to get vaccinated, and restrictions were lifted, Mom became the proverbial butterfly flitting and floating in the grassy field that is life on the other side.  Watching her dance, bop, and clap her way through her Jazzercise class with smiles for miles, I couldn’t help but admire her renewed exuberance and vibrancy.  Seeing her surrounded once more by friends and acquaintances in her various community and social circles reassures, that indeed, there is a dawn after night, and there is joy after the pains of birth, or in this case, rebirth.

Happy Birthday, Mom!  May you continue to find ways to renew and restore, and may your story remind others that regeneration of the human spirit is indeed possible! 

A Good Morning Goodbye to Summer

“ . . . Goodnight mush

And goodnight to the old lady whispering “hush” 

Goodnight stars

Goodnight air

Good night noises everywhere”–Margaret Wise Brown from the book, Goodnight Moon, illustrated by Clement Hurd

When my daughter, Madelyn, aka “Maddie,” was a toddler, she had several favorite books with which she played, banged, tugged, and, eventually, pretended to read. One of those favorite titles was Margaret Wise Brown’s, Goodnight Moon.  Of course, as with most children, we went through several phases of “favorite books” that were the bedtime default for, “one more story,” before lights were out.  However, Goodnight Moon was an on again, off again favorite for a couple of years.  There is a reason this 1947 classic children’s story has sold millions of copies and has been translated into numerous languages.

I was reflecting upon those sweet, long ago reading-bedtime-stories-memories and comparing those times within the current context as I made my way through Ritter Park on what was my final week day workout of the summer . . .

Maddie in her extra soft jammies, smelling mildly of soap, her hair slightly damp, her skin soft, pink, and warm, as she wriggled a little closer, imploring me to read, “one more story.”  Reaching for Goodnight Moon for what felt like the thousandth time, I would often change the words of the story to reflect our house, her bedroom, and her surroundings, creating a more personal narrative.  Quite often, Maddie would join in with her own improvisation as well.  

Reading to my daughter is one of those memories that brings tears to my eyes because time seems to have transpired so swiftly.  It feels as if only last week that I was reading those stories, and numerous others, with her.  I didn’t realize then, that as quickly as those page-turning moments were occurring, they were likewise being replaced in the same way Maddie’s bedtime books were changing and evolving. The time of childhood kept moving forward like the plot of her stories. For unlike her storybooks that could be paused or stopped by simply closing the book, time did not then, nor does not now, allow me to stop the story of life from progressing.  Goodnight, Maddie, as a toddler.  

Miss Maddie grew, and with every page turn of life came a new image, a new stage, a new way of saying goodnight.  Giggle-filled toddlerhood seamlessly turned into the carefree days of preschool age, and soon enough the plot evolved into the pleasant days of kindergarten.  As life progressed, cheery days of elementary years were followed by those angsty years of middle school. Next came the plot-twists that belong to the high school years.  Presently, a new page has been turned, with more COVID-related turn-of-events occurring that continue to promote both her personal and academic growth as she makes her way through the challenging college years, especially within today’s state-of-affairs.  

Time just keeps cascading, drumming along, pattering out rhythmic beats of memories.  These snapshot moments of life with our daughter are like the bubbles she created in those early bygone years. Maddie would blow the bubbles into life and then chase those bubbles, trying to “catch” them, but bubbles tend to pop when you try to grasp them.  Instead bubbles are best enjoyed while savoring the creation of each one and then enjoying their flight as they glide through air as shiny kaleidoscopes of joyful color.  However, like my toddler daughter of all those years ago, we often give chase to life, trying to hold onto bubble-like moments of the past or bubbles that might be created in the future, often unaware that current bubbles of life-moments are floating within our view with little personal awareness.  

In some ways, though the pandemic has forced many of us to be more aware of the preciousness of life.  When life as we knew it, came to a screeching halt, or at the very least, drastically slowed down, time spent driving hither and thither was reduced to a bare minimum.  Spending most, to nearly all, of your time at home became the new normal.  The hands of life’s clock tick-tocked to the same rhythm, and yet, felt s-l-o-w-e-r.  Working from home in comfy clothes was the new cool.  John, Maddie, and me, like many that were lucky enough to remain employed or in school, worked from our home battling for wifi and dealing with the imperfection technology; and, truth-be-told, imperfect people since neither John nor I are tech savvy.   Somehow, though, we managed to keep turning those pages of work, school, and life, but it was different, and it seemed to revive the age-old theme for the desire of work-life balance and the importance of spending time with family and loved ones.

Now, as we return to new variations and designs of our work worlds, I have to wonder/worry if we are returning to the proverbial rat race.  While there were, and continue to be, many negatives of living with COVID-19, there were (and are) advantages to quarantining at home.  One of my big takeaways from the experience is that growing desire to strike a greater balance between work life, family, and time spent in meaningful, personal pursuits and/or expressions. COVID has revealed there is more to life than career, and there is likewise much value in time spent with people. While being able to financially support oneself is important, COVID has repeatedly reminded me, and many others, that our time on earth is like those bubbles of Maddie’s youth, elusive, colorful, but short-lived.  I want time to create and savor more meaningful bubbles of life moments.

As I continued down memory lane on that Ritter Park run of last week, I was reminded of the certain situations for which I am/was happy to say goodbye and others for which I am/was glad to say hello with regards to COVID, quarantine, and working from home as well as the positives and negatives of returning to work (school), albeit, with a new way of working and thinking about education and work-life in general.  In my head, Maddie’s Goodnight Moon’s simple verse informed thought bubbles of random rhymes and personal prose . . .

On a great big earth

There was a virus

And a numerous people of worth

And a picture of–

Distractions of media birth

And there were numerous world leaders sitting on chairs

And there were markets

And there were targets

And people were moving

And the bug was stewing

And there was more spread that grew in a rush

And there were even some men who were proclaiming, “hush”

Goodnight school

Goodnight need for much fuel

Goodnight countless people of worth

Hello time at home

Hello best-not-to-roam

Hello extra family time

Hello singing wind chime

Hello work from the table

Hello time for evening cable

Hello bedtime at dark

Hello paths of local parks

Hello time spent in nature

Hello medical danger

Hello life with COVID-19

Hello people on a virtual scene

Goodbye summer months that went by fast

Hello school bells ringing at last

Hello to the students I will see

Hello to the in-person teacher I will be

Goodbye warm lunch peacefully eaten alone.

Goodbye work from home

Hello continued work-friend, Google Chrome

Goodbye quarantine that abounds

Hello, the virus is still around

Hello to spaced out chairs

Hello to continued and fervent prayers

Goodbye work day morning run

Goodbye savoring dawn’s sun

And there’s still no goodbye to men proclaiming, “hush”

Goodbye sweatpants

Goodbye, my growing green plants

Goodbye quarantine life . . .

May this school year and fall 

be safe for all 

Goodbye, fellow morning exerciser, Deborah Garrett who walks an hour and forty minutes most mornings at Ritter Park. She says she “just loves it in Ritter Park.” I hope that I see you from time to time on the weekends. In the meantime, keep on stepping into life!