Gratitude and........."

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

In some past posts I struggled with a quotation from Pastor Mary that began "It is impossible to be grateful and _____ at the same time."  She said it in a sermon about the time Joanne died and also said it to me personally in response to Joanne's abundance of gratitude even as she lay dying.   Pastor Mary, newly returned from Holden Village, was at church this morning giving me an opportunity to ask her.  When she had a moment to reflect it came back to her, "It is impossible to be grateful and hate at the same time."
    She also said that "Gratitude is the antidote to narcissism."  To which I replied, "Yes, they are mutually exclusive."   Gratitude is also the balm for grief though it may be very difficult to be grateful when one is in deep grief...it comes easier as one moves in the land of grief.  In the past I have often said "It's hard to improve on honesty."  It is also hard to improve on gratitude.
 Included below is a poem just for fun.  It's from today's  Writer's Almanac.

                                                             The Fantastic Names of Jazz
                                                                               by Hayden Carruth

                                                                         Zoot Sims, Joshua Redman,
                                                                         Billie Holiday, Pete Fountain,
                                                                         Fate Marable, Ivie Anderson,
                                                                         Meade Lux Lewis, Mezz Mezzrow,
                                                                         Manzie Johnson, Marcus Roberts,
                                                                         Omer Simeon, Miff Mole, Sister
                                                                         Rosetta Tharpe, Freddie Slack,
                                                                         Thelonious Monk, Charlie Teagarden,
                                                                         Max Roach, Paul Celestin, Muggsy
                                                                         Spanier, Boomie Richman, Panama
                                                                          Francis, Abdullah Ibrahim, Piano
                                                                          Red, Champion Jack Dupree,
                                                                          Cow Cow Davenport, Shirley Horn,
                                                                          Cedar Walton, Sweets Edison,
                                                                          Jaki Byard, John Heard, Joy Harjo,
                                                                          Pinetop Smith, Tricky Sam

                                                                          Nanton, Major Holley, Stuff Smith,

                                                                          Bix Beiderbecke, Bunny Berigan,
                                                                          Mr. Cleanhead Vinson, Ruby Braff,
                                                                          Cootie Williams, Cab Calloway,
                                                                          Lockjaw Davis, Chippie Hill,
                                                                          And of course Jelly Roll Morton.
 

“The Fantastic Names of Jazz” by Hayden Carruth from Doctor Jazz. © Copper Canyon Press, 2003. Reprinted with permission. 

Takk for alt,

Al,  

PS Today it rained on my clean windows, see if I wash them again!

6/29/2019 Caring Bridge

Eulogies, and other lies!

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Okay, I admit it, that title is a bit over the top.  Perhaps eulogies are not the place to enumerate the deceased's sins.  Disclaimer here: I wrote the eulogy for Joanne and if anyone would like a copy I can email it.  There is one eulogy that I remember for its honesty in holding the deceased accountable.  It was given by a friend at a mutual friend's funeral.  In the eulogy the speaker mentioned his disappointment that the deceased was not wearing his seat belt when his wife fell asleep at the wheel.  
    Most of the eulogies I have heard have been long on the deceased positive qualities...sometimes to the point that the dead person is unrecognizable.  Perhaps it's a good thing to put the departed's best foot forward.  However, being the truth teller that I am, it may be permissible to say things like "I regret _________'s two pack a day smoking habit" or "I wish ___________ would not have smoked pot before getting behind the wheel."   Okay, okay, I know that i may be coming off as the curmudgeon that I am.  All of this diatribe was prompted by this poem in today's Writer's Almanac.

A Question
by Gary Johnson

"His wife said, "Please be careful," and he smiled patiently
And said, "Hey, don't worry about me."
And he buckled right in with a confident grin
And his screwdriver touched a live wire.
And he let out a cry and proceeded to die
In a shower of sparks and fire.
And the people who gave the eulogy
Spoke of honor and love and ambition.
They spoke well of the dead, and nobody said,
"Why didn't he call an electrician"
Might it be good to have a bit of truth in advertising?

Takk for alt,

PS  I washed all the condo windows today without Joanne to hold the ladder or point out spots I missed. 😀 

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6/28/2019 Caring Bridge

A 'red letter' day!

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Didn't we all grow up with the popular wisdom "you can't teach an old dog new tricks?"  Learning is for the young and old timer's aren't expected to lean new tricks, though I don't consider myself old.  There is a special delight that comes with mastering a skill that has long eluded one.  It's not that I don't continue to learn.  Every book we read in my history book club is a revelation of how little I know, but now at least, I know a bit more.   Perhaps some of the issue is intention.  Seldom do I make a conscious decision to learn a new skill.  My dabbling in farming often exposes me to learning and I'm blessed with a 'real' farmer in the family to whom I often turn for information and advice.  In my boyhood very little of our farming was done using hydraulics so hydraulic issues often challenge me now.  Perhaps that's a skill?  Yet, I'm not very skillful with hydraulics.  No, this skill is closer to home and one that has frustrated me until today.  Today I mastered it and I'm confident I have it down so will be able to use it in the future. (A little discursus here: Have you noticed how the phrase "going forward" has replace "in the future" in writing and conversation?)

Takk for alt,

Al

Oh?  The skill, you say?  With some advice from K B, I successfully folded a king size, fitted sheet! 😁

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6/27/2019 Caring Bridge

Gratitude or Takk for alt!

Journal entry by Al Negstad — 1 minute ago

  L L forwarded this quote (see below) to me and it's one of those statements that is so powerfully true that it is hard to know what to say.  From the early days in the land of grief I remember some of something Pastor Mary said; "Research shows that it is impossible to be grateful and_____? at the same time."  When she returns I'll ask her the missing word but gratitude was the key.
    Joanne was filled with gratitude during her 23 days in hospice and I know that eased her death. It also made caring for her much easier.  "...spanning the chasm of our anxious striving."  Now isn't that exactly what gratitude gives?  It is enough!  I have enough! There is freedom in that, and that does "bridge from sorrow to joy."  
     What are your thoughts about gratitude and grief?

                                                                            WORD FOR THE DAY

"I wonder if gratefulness is the bridge from sorrow to joy, spanning the chasm of our anxious striving. Freed from the burden of unbridled desires, we can enjoy what we have, celebrate what we've attained, and appreciate the familiar. For if we can't be happy now, we'll likely not be happy when."

Phillip Gulley
Takk for alt

al

6/26/2019 Caring Bridge

Human Value

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Garrison Keillor, wrote a piece that appeared online, about attending a wedding in a remote village in Portugal.  He painted a beautiful word picture of the scene and his enjoyment of being present even though he didn't know the language.  Toward the end of his article was this paragraph:
"What I especially remember is the young woman in the wheelchair, unable to walk or talk, but she seemed aware. She was the daughter of the cantor at the church. All evening, she was surrounded by people, uncles, cousins, holding her hand, caressing her cheek, stroking her hair. She laughed at the music. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. In this insignificant village in this small country, people care about each other, though some have left for better jobs in France, and their love for the community is exemplified by their care for her: nobody should be left out, no matter if she speaks or not."   This really speaks for itself.

    It happened again, as it did a couple of years ago when I ordered storm windows.  My old truck is heavy duty and quite high off the ground, it being 4 wheel drive and all.  It does not have running boards, i.e., a step to help getting in the cab.  In a truck accessory store in Brookings, a small city of 22,000, I ordered steps but they were not in stock.  The man taking my order asked for my phone number and said he'd call me when they arrived.  No down payment, no credit card number on hold...just my phone number...honesty assumed!  The steps are quite inexpensive but when I ordered storm windows at fairly significant cost it was "I have your phone # and I'll call you when they arrive."  Such assumed honesty nurtures my soul.

There is a small pollinator plot, 4 acres, I planted to a variety of native wildflowers and grasses next to my grassland.  Seeing Monarch butterflies on it today also nurtured my soul.

Takk for alt,

Al

Pictures milkweed in the grass and Trygve, faithful companion.

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6/25/2018 Caring Bridge

June 25, 2019

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

In response to yesterday's post, Jody, forwarded me links to three news articles about the bus crash I mentioned. My guess of it being ten years ago was close; February 2008. Hunter, age 9, and J J, age 13, are brothers. Emilee, age 9, is not spelled 'Emily', as I had it.  There were four deaths, in addition to the three from Cottonwood, Reed, age 12, of Marshall died.  Sixteen others were injured.  The bus was thrown into the path of a pickup truck which then hit it on the other side.  There are legion in the land of grief.

    Who knew that milkweed loves fire?  Very late in April I did a controlled burn of some grassland.  The intention of the burn was to retard invasive plant species and invigorate the native grasses.  Indeed the grasses are happily growing aided by the heavy rains.  But, low and behold, there is a bumper crop of milkweed flourishing with the grass!  Yeah!🙏   One small strike for the beleaguered monarch butterflies, of which I've been seeing a few.  No, I didn't take a picture but will tomorrow when I'm again a farmer outstanding in his field.😅


Takk for alt,

Al

Pictured is my favorite tractor, a 1950 Farmall M.  

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6/24/2019 Caring Bridge

Memorium

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Trygve and I have a favorite route to The Little House On The Prairie that uses a county road which leads us to Highway 23, at Cottonwood.  Minnesota has a program that allows groups and individuals to "adopt a highway."  Many states have such a program for picking up litter on a stretch of highway, typically two miles, for which the sponsors get their name posted on a sign by the road.  Regularly traversing the same route I often know the names on a sign before I can read them.
    It was two miles south of Cottonwood that tragedy struck, 10? years ago.  A driver ran a stop sign and hit a school bus on Highway 23.  Three elementary students were killed, two of whom were siblings. Now, a denizen of the land of grief, I'm more cognizant of the pain of those families. Unimaginable to lose a child like that and then two???!!!!   A cross marks the spot where they died.
    Turning onto Highway 23, this morning, I looked up and saw this sign "FOR A-J, EMILY AND HUNTER."  Someone has adopted a highway in memory of the three students killed in the bus crash.  What does that mean to the bereaved parents when they see the sign?  My guess is it is a poignant comfort. Poignant as a reminder yet a comfort that their child/children have not been forgotten.  
    When the volunteers gather to clean the ditches I hope they tell A-J, Emily, and Hunter stories. The bereaved always have their lost loved one on their mind and it's a comfort to know others have not forgotten the deceased.

   Yes, of course we visited Joanne.  Sunny with puffy clouds, about 70 degrees, slight breeze...a perfect "Joanne day."


Takk for alt,

Al

Look carefully at the picture and you can see a row of corn peeking up.  Knee high by the 4th of August.

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6/23/2019 Caring Bridge

The gift of sleep!

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

   An article in today's  Minneapolis paper linked adequate sleep with grief recovery. The article's title is "Quality seep is an important component of grieving process". Perhaps I should say at the outset that protagonist of the article who was recommended sleep runs a mattress company.  However, she found, with the death of her husband, that sleep was a significant factor in her recovery.
    It called to my mind how fortunate I've been to have the gift of sleep.  All through Joanne's illness, time in hospice, death and since, I've been able to sleep.  Why? An answer for that eludes me, so, I accept it as gift, with out understanding its cause.  Recently I waggishly suggested to a friend that I could sleep because I have a clean conscience. 😀 Naturally I'm not serious, just grateful that I don't often lie awake.
   An article in  The Washington Post, today titled "Want to feel more happy? Go outside," reported research that spending 120 minutes outside per week can "greatly enhance a person's overall sense of well being."  A cumulative 2 hours a week doesn't seem like much.  There are times when I leave the condo to go outside I can viscerally sense the benefit.  Thanks to Trygve, and the farm, I have good excuses to get outdoors. 
   Online I saw a report, which I can't recover now, about the significance of humor in mental well being.  Though, I live with absence of presence in the land of grief, I continue to find humor in things large and small.  Last night at dinner we laughed a lot, or as the old time local newspaper would have reported "A good time was had by all."

Takk for alt

Al

6/22/2019 Caring Bridge

June 22, 2019

Journal entry by Al Negstad — 1 minute ago

Tonight I'm going a short road trip for dinner, with friends.  I will post more tomorrow.

Takk for alt

Al

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6/21/2019 Caring Bridge

Inner Work

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

"If the bad news is that we can know another, and be known, only as deeply as we know ourselves—and coming to know ourselves can be a long and arduous journey—the good news is that love helps and inspires us to develop this deeper self-knowledge. . . . For this reason, relationships can help us face and understand ourselves more rapidly and profoundly than any other aspect of worldly life. Seen in this light, love becomes a path of awakening—rousing us from the sleep of old, unconscious patterns into the freshness and immediacy of living more fully in the present, in accord with who we really are. This is the source of a deeper kind of happiness, which goes far beyond pleasure and comfort, and the only real basis for healthy and satisfying relationships."  from Richard Rohr's daily post forwarded to me by a friend.
    "...we can know another, and be known, only as deeply as we know ourselves..." is a truth to be embraced.  Often called "inner work", it is that lifelong process of coming to know one's self.  What makes me reactive and why?  Why do certain people and situations 'hook' me?   Why do I get upset over one situation and not another?  What triggers a defensive reaction in me?  How are my reactions as an adult related to elements of my childhood?  Someone has said that "the unexamined life is not worth living."  Another person said "above all to thine own self be true."   Soren Kierkegaard said "Purity of heart is to will one thing."  All of these aphorisms are directed at knowing oneself, i.e., inner work.
     "...the good news is that love helps and inspires us to develop this deeper self-knowledge..."  Certainly Joanne's love of me inspired my deeper self-knowledge.  The gift of relationship with her over five decades led me to ever deeper understandings of myself.  "...coming to know ourselves can be a long an arduous journey..." is certainly true and one that is never finished.  But in it is freedom to live and act as responsible adults, choosing appropriate responses to the situations which confront us rather than simply living re-actively. 
    There is no better current  example of the danger posed by people in power, who have done zero inner work, than the "current occupant"  who is totally reactive while having the capacity to create chaos, destroy people and sow discord.  Lord deliver us from those who do not know themselves.

Takk for alt,

Al

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6/20/2019 Caring Bridge

Kindness

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

"Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind can see."  Mark Twain.
    "When we treat others with kindness and no thought of reward, we change as humans. We live lives that have greater meaning and happiness. I am honored and humbled to be surrounded by family, friends, and an entire community that has shown Amy and me compassion and kindness in so many ways."  from The Race of my Life: 50 Essays on Living with Cancer, Dr. David Eitrheim, M.D.  pp. 166-167.
    Yes, that has been my experience..."surrounded by family, friends, and an entire community that has shown...compassion and kindness..."   A friend wrote this in an email to me. "Just want to share a sudden awareness of my admiration for Joanne. I think she did things for people out of wanting to do something for others."   This is true...Joanne had a very spontaneous, non-calculating style of being kind.  In her absence I'm the recipient of the kind response of others who were touched by Joanne's kindness.  We are co-creators, for better or worse, of the universe we inhabit. 

Takk for alt,

Al 

6/19/2019 Caring Bridge

Permanent Residence

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Now, having reached a certain age, blessed with the gift of memory, it is interesting to survey my relational landscape.  There were contemporaries in my youth, whom I thought, were destined, if not for greatness, at least success.  Some were indeed successful but others flamed out early.  There were others, of whom I expected little, who have done very well, successful and some perhaps even great. Over these decades many have disappeared from my view.  Perhaps a "Do you remember____ from college?" will bring back a long forgotten name and person. This person may well be one of whom I've not thought for decades.
   Garrison Keillor wrote, "The living wander away, we don't hear from them for months, years--but the dead move in with us to stay."  It is so true that the living, some at least, wander away; many from my youth are gone away, there is one person from my 3 years in the USMC with whom I have contact, 50+ years later my seminary class is widely scattered with few with whom I'm in touch.  Wandered away and no word from them...
  "...but the dead move in with us to stay."   This is but another 'take' on the presence of absence in the land of grief.   Perhaps 'moving in with us to stay' is not true in all circumstances but it is very true when the deceased was significant in one's life.  Certainly I hope that Joanne has 'moved in with me to stay', though the place she occupies feels less poignant now.  
   The reality, that the place is less poignant, while inevitable, also is unsettling.  Should not her absence be as dramatic now as ever?  Does this somehow devalue our relationship?  While my head says one thing my heart says another.  It is another of those paradoxes with which one must live.

Takk for alt,

Al

6/18/2019 Caring Bridge

On Darkness

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

                                                          Bright Wind

                                "I recognized you when you spoke my name 
                                 in dawn's light pattered within window frames.
  
                                 "You brightened every pine bough in high summer,
                                  and arrived again in moments--as if you were every away--

                                 "returning with a fierceness that stung my jaw
                                  when I opened my mouth to the sea and breathed.

                                 "And you spoke with a force that wills everything,
                                  sweeping stiff clothes white, alive to living.

                                 "Your bright wind flickered as new branches grew.
                                  Even when I am blind--darkness is not dark to you."  

 Nora Kirkham, The Christian Century, June 5, 2019, P. 11.

    Darkness vs light?  How is this to be understood?  When I read this poem my mind flipped back to the quote that Tom shared with me: "What if the darkness is of the womb, not of the tomb?"  When is darkness not dark?  When is the dark generative and not debilitating?  
    Out of the darkness of Joanne's death has come transformation for me, all of which I'd gladly surrender to have her back.  Yet, she'd be astounded to know that, in this week back in Minneapolis, I have 9 social engagements scheduled with family and friends. Yes, I'm blessed!  "Better to light one little candle..."?


Takk for alt,

Al

6/27/2019 Caring Bridge

Justice vs Mercy

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

                                     Statues

                          "What does justice look like?
                            He asked, and I said that's easy.
                            A bronze statue of a woman
                            In robes, blindfolded,
                            Holding up scales. Precisely,
                            He said, you can almost hear
                            The correct little clicks of those
                            Weights in the balance. Now,
                            He said, what does mercy look like?
                            That one stumped me.

                           "Is there a lesson here, I asked, and
                            He said, perhaps sculpt a woman
                            In a bathrobe, making a sandwich,
                            And her scowling boy, who prefers
                            Peanut butter to ham. Or carve
                            Bienevenu foisting his candlesticks
                            On cringing Jean Valjean.
                            Or fashion the brittle father
                            Rushing down the clay path
                            To embrace his prodigal, but--

                            "I get the idea, I said,
                             There would have to be two.
                             Not quite, he said.
                             There would have to be
                             Movement. Not easy with statues,
                             With things that stay put, things done
                             So right that they make little clicks."       Tom Schmidt in The Christian Century, June 5, 2019, P. 10

    Bereavement is a wonderful opportunity for mercy, and as this profound poem points out mercy, is movement...action.  As the recipient of countless acts of mercy, as I've traversed  the land of grief, it has become clear to me how merciful movement...the actions of others...has assisted me toward healing and recovery.  
    The 'takeaway' I think, is, when confronted with another's bereavement, do something. Perhaps  use words but doing: sending that e-mail, writing that note, inviting to meals, events, home... It is the "doings" of relationship that conveys mercy.  Never discount the significance of your relationship with the bereaved...no matter how tenuous the connection there is opportunity for mercy. Something as small as telling or asking a story about the deceased is an act of mercy.


Takk for alt,

Al

6/16/2019 Caring Bridge

15th Story, Home now

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

Travelling from The Little House on the Prairie to the downtown condo makes for interesting variety.  Sinai's 120 residents aren't very loud and the girls loved the freedom of riding their bikes to feed the camels, go around town and out to the cemetery.  Today I traded the tranquility of a small town for the energy of downtown city life.  Trygve takes it all in stride from, patient condo dweller, to fun play dates in Sinai with the 14 week old, lab, puppy next door.  Perhaps on my next trip I'll have time to take him carp fishing again.  Last week I pressed a bit to get my corn planted before company came.
    Joanne loved the transition settling into her recliner in either place.  There isn't much TV access at in The Little House, just what rabbit ears pull in, and that's only the public stations.  She couldn't watch CNN nor Rachel Maddow there, but, supplied with good books she didn't care. In her retirement she read three or four books a week.  If a book didn't engage her with he first chapter she would move on to a different one.  This was compensation for her working years when she never took time to read books...she was lucky to finish the newspaper.
    Perhaps I'm getting used to being alone. Maybe it's easier for an introvert who loses a spouse than it is for an extrovert.  With a daily people fix to fill my 'people bladder,' being alone is not a burden.  Joanne was so extroverted that on the personality profiles she would not have a single check on the introvert side.  When she was convalescing from one of her many surgeries I'd send an SOS, asking persons to call or visit because she was trapped at home with a monosyllabic introvert...a fate worse than...…….
   Yes, I've found a level of peace in the land of grief, but that is not to say that the presence of absence is not painful.

Takk for alt,

Al

Pictures: Planting corn and the girls with their bikes.

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6/15/2017 Caring Bridge

"People Connector"

Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago

At a big birthday bash for Joanne, held at a hotel ballroom, her college roommate made some remarks about Joanne.  Jenine said that one of Joanne's qualities as a friend was how she always stayed in touch. Yes, she was a very faithful friend, a quality she learned from her parents.  Someone else coined the phrase that she is "a people connector."  I'm sorry that I don't remember who said that first...but she certainly was.
    People connecting does not come as naturally to me as it did to Joanne but I'm trying to carry on the tradition.  Lars and family joined me at The Little House On The Prairie for Father's Day weekend.  Tonight I've gathered a total of 13 family members for dinner in Brookings.  Lest I take too much credit, Lars and his family being present are the real draw.
    Five of us in The Little House creates much happy energy contained in its 725 square feet.  Old bicycles I acquired are a big hit with the girls, ages 7 and 10.  They appreciate the freedom to pedal around town on their own, including to the camel pen to feed the camels.  Today they rode their bikes to the cemetery to pay respects to grandma, great-grandparents and great-great grandparents.

Takk for alt,

Al

Pictures:  The girls picking vegetation to feed the 5 camels and 1 horse in the pen.  Popcorn anyone? Burning the cornfield before replanting.

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