When almost anyone asks me what something means, I will answer with gusto. Meaning and how we create meaning is one of the major interests of my life. Semiotics is how things mean. Semantics is what things mean. The question, no matter what the “something” is, gives me a chance to ply my trade. I don’t get to do that as often as I would like.
My career and indeed my life has had many “interruptions.” Several minor surgeries in the late 90s brought back somatic memories and emotions that completely destroyed the tenuous self esteem and certitude of purpose I had managed to create for myself; In spite of surrounding myself with people who were similar to my family of origin in that they were not supportive to the extreme. I collapsed emotionally. I had to quit my job due to stress and depression so that I could use the energy I could still gather to raise my daughter. This hurt my family financially, my husband did not understand or deal well, at all, with my inability to cope with my despair.
As I once wrote in a poem, “the page will listen when my throat runs dry of scream.” So, I managed to begin writing on several topics dear to me, and this outlet allowed me enough reprieve from teetering on the abyss to do some things, the most important things for me, very well. I was a Girl Scout Leader, made amazing Halloween cakes, and was, I like to think, a fairly significant influencer in the early days of online communities. Eventually I became a peace activist between debilitating bouts of depression, When I was not in a severe depressive episode, migraines stole much of the little remaining time. I developed many physical problems. I knew I had to dig deeper and act as my own, and only, advocate.
I addressed the final piece of unresolved and unhealed emotional damage during this time and began writing about Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy child abuse that I finally understood as the underlying condition that hurt, festered, and scarred over without ever healing. Working for peace allowed me to develop strength and determination and use my writing and field skills in support of good, valuable work which others valued and expressed the value they placed on it to me. That gave me enough strength to persist with my healthcare providers until they figured out what physical problem was exacerbating the emotional struggles in which I was engaged. When I had corrective nose surgery so that I could breathe and sleep again, for the first time in decades, it allowed me to create a baseline that allowed me to buttress my own foundations and begin to build a real life of rewarding work for myself. This included finding a network of women bloggers within which I could practice the skills I had never learned or had not had the opportunity to practice.
Within the last couple of years I have noticed a trend of women close to my age, or in the same stage of life as me, regardless of age, beginning to build sub-networks within the larger blogging community. This year at the annual conference of this network of women bloggers, a critical mass of the subgroup began to, as I see it, build upon each others energies, and something amazing is coming from that collaboration.
There is something afoot. As a guerrilla anthropologist with a semiotic toolkit who read too much Alvin Toffler as a child, it seems I have been trend spotting for most of my life. Discerning patterns is what I do best and there hasn’t been a big demand for my rather esoteric skill set in the backwaters where I have lived much of my life. I have also lived in University towns where there is a glut of esoteric when I wasn’t located in the boondocks.
So while I have found my tribe in bloggy world of women of a certain age I have neither the professional work history or money behind me that most of them seem to have. I am so tired of trying to do everything by myself without a safety net or emotional support network, but I lack so much of the social skill it takes to take advantage of the opportunities that are developing as I write that I have a sick feeling I will miss out again.
I have to fight the desire to collapse, to just melt into a puddle of despair and have a little private pity party. I worked ever so diligently to create an awareness of the segmentation of the Baby Boom into several quite distinct cohorts. I was a social media influencer in this area over a decade ago. I was early in to the BlogHer sphere of political and techy bloggers. On my “it ain’t fair” days I feel as though I have helped others and not been acknowledged or reaped any rewards from these efforts. On my better days, I just say, “life isn’t fair and thank my lucky stars that I have a brilliant husband whose research will ultimately save untold people pain, suffering, and premature deaths, that we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and kids and grandkids who are happy and healthy.
So when Chloe of The Chloe Chronicles asked a question about meaning on a closed blogging group on Facebook, it really made me think. I am absolutely certain that there is a nexus within the global information network that will exert a profound influence on and shape women’s information and history for generations to come. Women have always been keepers of family and community meaning. Local and family history and lore were oral traditions and documented in the letters of women that were saved for a few decades at best while institutionalized knowledge was most often limited to that from male spheres of influence.
No matter how troubled, unappreciated, stressed, overworked, or underpaid we women writers of a certain age may be, we are creating the structure of future with the paths we walk, the words we write, and the myths we disintegrate with our raging ray-guns powered by the energy released during hormonal fluctuations. I am still convinced that all the other women bloggers of a certain age are thinner, richer, better looking, more inspired, more talented, and better connected than I will every be, that is my problem. I am glad I am in their midst, because they help me understand that the meaning that is everywhere in their worlds is the same meaning that I find in mine. We are all so much more similar than different. That is meaningful.
Angelic Friends and Angled Paths
I wrote a poem after a phrase lept to mind upon reading Carrie Newcomer's email/newsletter info about her upcoming CD release. The phrase was, “angelic friends and angled paths.”
So this week, rather than reviewing an app today, I am encouraging you to check out Carrie's music. You will be glad you did.
thoughts of rhinoceri
angelic friends and angled paths
and reason on its way
intersect
intersperse
patterns in the fray
woven in the fabric of
forever, never, may
meeting through the men we soon
grew beyond and bounded by
kindred sisters of a sort
our paths were lit by allegory
separately we learned to fly
with words, voice, and heart
united by the fierce peace of soul
of moonlight on the wabash,
and moons in Stjukshon skies
all too familiar
with the sad hurt of humankind
there is faith in calm belief
in your wind whispered gospels
my earthy baptism of self by thorny creek
resilient friendships bent like willows
while other connections snapped like twigs
though our paths ramble, they curve mostly parallel
the laughter and love of long time friendship
chimes meditative recognition
sister voices of the kindred
crisp, tender, and real
by nancy hill
25 september 2012
inspired by Carrie's new album cover:
I'm just promo-ing this because I love Carrie, and her music is absolutely inspired. I highly recommend getting some of her music. I am receiving no compensation for promoting her music. Here's the info on the CD from the newsletter:
November 13, 2012 Rounder Records releases a new compilation of Carrie Newcomer music entitled Kindred Spirits: A collection. This generous collection of 19 songs draw from Carrie's catalog of 12 Rounder Records releases. It also includes two previously unreleased songs, two songs from her special hunger benefit project (Everything is Everywhere) featuring beloved Indian classical sarod masters Amjad Ali Khan, Ayaan and Amaan Ali Kahn … Also incuded are Carrie's haunting duet with Mary Chapin Carpenter, “Before and After” and the clear voiced celebration of “The Gathering of Spirits” featuring Alison Krauss. …
Tumbleweed Tails and Gelato – The Italian Connection
In the midst of having a list of writing and platform installation tasks as long as my arm, this past weekend, my Hubby, Fang, wanted to try to track down the person who ran the kennel where we purchased our last Italian, or Neapolitan, Mastiff. Since the untimely death of Mr. Worf, our last Neo, from an Africanized bee attack, Hubby Fang has been inconsolate. He is a boy who really needs to have a puppy. We ended up with Gelato instead of a puppy. I have to highly recommend Frost for some of the best gelato ever. Really! The master gelato maker is here from Italy with a special work visa used exclusively for highly skilled specialists. If you are in Tucson you need to check it out one of their locations for some excellent, one-of-a-kind flavors, and they always have two sugar free flavors that are the best you will find anywhere. Actually, they are opening up franchises for this Tucson-based business, so you might be able to find one close, or at least closer, to you.
We have to spend time creating our new married life for the next phase of our life together. We never had any real time as just a couple. We started our family immediately upon finally getting together. I knew Fang for 15 years as a dear friend before we ever got together. Once we finally got together there was no time to waste, apparently. So here we are 23 years later, after already having grown tired of each other's annoying habits and idiosyncrasies, as most long term couples do, trying to be nice to each other in our new dynamic, and not really knowing how. Remember, remember, remember… what was it, besides sex, that I found so irresistible about him so long ago? Well, he is brilliant. But then so am I. And he loves dogs. For me that says a huge amount about a person. Good sex, good brain, and dog-lover. What more does a woman need? I need something for Fang to do to keep him from starting any more construction projects around the home. Have I told you about the kitchen cabinets he has been building for five years? That, as they say, is another story. I'm in hot pursuit of finding him a new pup to be his best friend.
In fact this weekend, today, we drove up to Phoenix from Tucson to meet some rescued Neapolitan Mastiffs. We are seriously in the market for a companion for our grouchy 8 year old mixed breed bitch. So we met the most adorable rescue male Neo. His name is Cooper and he needs a forever home. He is a year or so old, but Neos act like puppies until they are two or so. He loved me and gave me kisses almost immediately. He got on fine with our Miss Daisy too; serious butt-sniffing ensued and there was a little bit of circle play. But he was sort of indifferent with Hubby Fang. And Fang is the boy who needs a puppy.
It broke my heart not to adopt Cooper because he has a sweet, truly non-aggressive personality, and is so friendly, happy, and playful. He isn't super wrinkly at all, as most non champion Neos aren't, and he is a bit on the small side, which I think is good because that could extend the shorter lifespan tht some of the really big dogs tend to have. I think he is perfect. I wish he would have hit it off with Fang. He has a cherry eye that will be corrected with surgery, at the same time he is neutered, before being released to his forever home. I hope someone special adopts him soon. He would be perfect for a woman in need of a companion dog, and he is good with kids so a single mom with kids would be a great fit. Did I mention he has the most gorgeous soft, shiny black fur? He has a short coat so shedding wouldn't be bad. Mastiffs are the most loyal canines ever and when they bond with their forever pack, they are the best friend you will ever have. Rescue animals need your love even more than regular animals.
I hope you will consider adopting a rescued animal the next time you are searching for a pet. They need us so much. There are probably a hundred or more animals in need of homes in your city right now. You can check out rescue animals in AZ and the Southwest by going to Canine Rescue Coalition on Facebook. Pet Finder is a national website that works with many local rescue groups to connect you with animals that need homes. Don't buy, adopt. That way you are not supporting puppy mills and setting up unpurchased animals for abuse or euthenasia.
Siblings Senesce
Being the youngest child and only daughter of parents who were in their 40s when I was born has provided me with many unique opportunities and fair share of disadvantages. The parents of some of my friends from High School were in the same High School Yearbook as my oldest brother. My brothers were 18, 16, 14, and 9 years old when I was born.
But life is never predictable. My mom lived to a respectable age of 92. My best friend during my teen years only lived to be 21 because of someone drinking and driving. We never know what life has in store for us. But even though we don't think about it, we expect that our generation will last longer than the previous generation. Understanding bacteriology and our ubiquitous use of antibiotics has altered our understanding of nature. Once, not that long ago, large families were the norm and disease and accidents often claimed lives of some family members before adulthood. The fragile nature of life was a more constant awareness.
We who were born in the 20th Century are a lucky few generations to expect to live long and full lives. But as we approach later middle age many of us will begin to measure our lives quite differently than we have up until now. Our siblings age and their aging is more apparent to us than our own. Families age.
So as Autumn kicks up leaves and whistles chilly tunes I am reminded of time passing in a new way. This summer when I tried to contact my youngest brother, who is actually nine years my senior, I couldn't. No answer on his phone, then it was filled with messages. I didn't have my nephew's number and the email I had bounced. My oldest brother, who is in his 70s, is not in good health and hadn't heard from my younger brother for ages. Two of my brothers, the two in the middle, have passed on, one in 1998 and one in 2005. Dad passed in 1986 and Mom in 2007. I live 2000 miles away from where I grew up and my midwest family of origin never really traveled much, and as we aged we grew apart.
When I passed through the old home area this summer I deviated from my typical schedule where I arrange to meet at least one friend from my youth and just drop in and visit family when I can. I drove from Northwest Indiana through Amish country to Northeastern Indiana where I grew up. I drove straight to my youngest brother's house. My nephew was there. He told me his Dad was in the VA hospital in central Indiana. He had been diagnosed with dementia. I was floored. I went to visit my oldest brother but he hasn't tracked well for years and lives in pain. I mainly talked to my sister in law, and my oldest brother would just interject every few minutes, “Now where did you say Roger was?” I ended up visiting graves that day. A week later I was able to come through the area again and look up my brother in the VA hospital.
The VA has been an unknown quantity to me for the most part, an elderly poet with whom I workshopped in 2003 to 2005 was at the VA as his health declined. It was a last stop for old men. How could my brother be there? 9 years older than me, I certainly would not expect to be in an “old folks” home in less than 10 years. But my brother was severely wounded in Vietnam, and his only real confidant, a buddy of his for the last 40 years, died last fall. He quit managing his diabetes. He cut himself off from everyone. I saw him in January just a couple weeks before the dementia set in. He seemed disconnected and angry, but I did not expect this.
Aging has become very real for me this year, not that it wasn't real before, but seemingly in the blink of an eye, over half of my family that I grew up amongst has left this world and those who are left are not doing so well. I may have been a spoiled little sister, but that rather fun position in the family has transformed to one with a much more somber outlook.
The good news is that once proper diet and exercise were re-established my brother rapidly began getting better. He is still in a wheel chair but he seems to be in charge of his faculties again and may get to come back to his own home.
Back to the Gym: Day 1
This won't be a long post. I'm too tired. My right knee hurts and my left foot hurts. Whine, bitch, moan.
I finally made it back to the gym to start using the vast amount of personal training sessions I have accumulated over the last year. Don't get me started on the scam that is “membership” at a gym. I have been taken by every gym I've ever “joined” except the all women one that apparently went under. They all have some sort of scam, outrageous fineprint, or hidden facility problem. So the last time my daugher and I joined up I swore that no matter how pissed off Fang got I would not allow him to bully me into quitting to save money.
My actual monthly fees are incredibly low due to a join back offer I got a few years ago. I love doing weights after I get a routine going. And I love reading on the eliptical cross-trainer, it is about the only time I have to read. So…it will be good. And I'm working with a personal trainer who happens to be female. I just don't need any testosterone around when I'm sweating, and flushed… and… in public. Private is quite another matter, thank you very much. So I am happy so far. The lockers and shower area is pretty spiff too. And the daycare is great when my step daughter and her twins are in town.
Just don't ask me why I have so many hours of personal training accumulated! I don't want to talk about that. Using the trainer to get me started off in a good routine is worth it. I have to reduce my weight a bit because I don't want to become diabetic again and the weight is easy to put back on now that I no longer have to take Metformin, but if I don't keep the weight down, then I might have to start the Metformin again. Vicious, evil cycle.
But anyway, I think my left foot is sore because I'm favoring my right knee and putting too much weight on my left foot as I exercise. My knee hurts because Miss Daisy tried to take my kneecap off when she went after a lizard while we were on a walk a few days ago. It didn't hurt much until after I worked out today. My foot started hurting a few hours after the workout. Aging is not for sissies, and that is why I'm back to working out regularly again.
Anyway, wish me luck and determination.
A Certain Age of Females on the Interwebs
I have been observing the presence of women of a certain age on the web for quite a while. I started writing about this a couple of years ago. How “certain age” is defined varies by who is asked to define it. As I am beginning to create content and frames for different sections of a the site I am launching this Fall that will serve that certain group of women. So I thought I would look at some of the groups that could be included in the Certain Age Mash Up dependent upon what characteristics you believe to be most defining of the group.
Empty Nests
The empty nest is a fictitious criteria. As I am wont to say, “My nest isn't empty, I'm still living here!” Humans are not birds. Evolutionarily and taxonomically humans are hominidae. And as far as I know members of this group, the great apes, including chimps and gorillas all make nests. They make nests for themselves. When they have dependent offspring, they share a nest. I am done building my nest. It is what it is and I still live here. I don't think I, personally, want to be defined by absence.
Menopause
Um… it isn't like menopause is a single event. It is a process. I think perimenopause taken together with the cessation of menstuation and the time after menopause when a new stability emerges comprises the vast majority of the contemporary women's lives especially when compared to the time of our lives defined by fertility. Again, the majority of my life, Goddess willing, should not be defined by absence.
Age by Decade
Should the fact that we use a base 10 numeric system define the stages of our lives? It probably is easier to organize a society according to the groups of people who reside in each 10 year period. But we all travel through time and pass through these categories that may or may not correspond to stages within the life of any one person. A woman in her thirties who began having children in her teens may have much in common with a woman who is in her fifties who began having children in her thirties than with someone her own age who is parenting a toddler. Of course biological stage of life would be the same for both the thirty-some women, but life experience will probably be very distinct for these two women.
Adult Children
Perhaps that “certain age” is defined by the presence of adult children? How do you define adult? Internal definitions and external definitions are different beasts. What if a woman is caring for a developmentally disabled child? Will she never be included in the sisterhood of a certain age? Adult children can return home. Adult children can establish homes next door or across the county. Children can become financially independent from parents or children can request or need or receive financial assistance from parents throughout their lives. Age, financial independence, and emotional or intellectual maturity of one group cannot really define another person's inclusion in another group.
Generation
In our society we give labels to different generations. These personlized age grades probably made sense in a farming society that changed little over the course of a century or two. What Brocaw has called the Greatest Generation gave birth to the Boomers, the Beats gave birth to Generation X, and the Boomers gave birth to the Millenials, right? Once again it isn't that simple although it does shed some light on why we have a saying about things skipping a generation. Generations as we currently know them are defined by governments and demographers. Cohorts are more coherent self-defined groups. The Boomers can be split into two very distinct cohorts, those who could have gone to Woodstock and those who could have, or whose peers could have been,drafted and fought in Vietnam. Those are distinct cohorts. People who were young and experienced a shared televised event when humans first visited the Moon have a defining experience that unites them as specific group of people. At one time it might have been experiencing painful coming of age ceremonies together. But then there is the “older generation” versus the “younger generation” that moves over or through specific groups of people. We were youngsters once. Now we are not.
Yes, Virginia, there is no absolute definition of woman. My own take on this is that our amazingly complex and awe-inspiring self-recognition system can extend as close to our personal identity or as far as every living thing. Some of us are closed and see differences. Some are open and see similarity. I suspect that every person puts her own experience in to this equation and comes up with a self/other ratio that is meaningful to her. Zero similarities translates to complete otherness. A ratio of one or complete agreement translates to self. To see self in the other probably needs more likeness than difference.
Women on the web, from my experience, are choosing to look for similarity. I like that.