044 The midwive

Call the Midwife

Rekindling memories

As the season finale of Call the Midwife unfolded, I was reminded of my childhood in the coalfields of West Virginia. My grandparents had settled there, taking jobs in the mines. They gravitated toward what was familiar from their homeland and that included the Catholic church. 

Logan County, West Virginia, in the 1950s,  Courtesy Goggle Images

Members of the Pallottine Missionary Sisters somehow had ended up in this mountainous region, nestled in a narrow valley in the far west corner of the state. 

Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church would never have survived without their constant leadership and direction. 

The nuns in the PBS series brought to mind those days of spending many hours at church with instruction by this amazing group of women. Weekly catechism classes, Mass attendance, and special events were my first encounters with the women in black. As in the TV program, the ages ranged from the elderly nuns, somewhat retired, to the young ones, beginning their careers.

Catechism was required by all children throughout their school days. Classes were held at homes of parishioners with transportation to and from sessions required by the families. My dad and uncles provided the drivers since most of our moms did not drive, and none of them could ever tell a nun “no” when asked to fulfill a task related to the church.

  These Pallottine Missionary Sisters have taught school and provided medical 

  care in West Virginia since 1912. This impressive group of nuns from across 

  the country were photographed in Huntington in the late 1950's.  
 Courtesy: The Culture Center,   East Charleston, WV 

Preparation for the sacraments of Holy Communion, Penance, and Confirmation were part of the lessons, but we always attempted to waver from the required lessons. One of the younger nuns, Sister Marguerita, was especially vulnerable to our idle chit chat and would sometimes join us as we veered off topic. After all, how much rote instruction could second graders take at a time?

I will never forget the gleam in her eyes as she stood there in her head-to-toe habit, talking about such exciting things as washing cars. Somehow with our immature topics, we could manage to get her engaged in our diversionary tactics. She always fussed at us for provoking her, but I think she needed a break, too.

Sister Ludwiga was the elder of the group, whose heavy European accent made us all struggle to understand every word. But she was so kind and helpful, we never missed a beat showing her the respect she deserved. In those days, when we attended Sunday Mass, children sat with the nuns in the front of the church, boys on one side and girls on the other. It was Sister Ludwiga who often delivered a quick tap on the shoulder to remind us to be still, quiet, or stop any other distraction committed.

One of the many events the nuns supervised during my childhood at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church.

The leader of the pack, Sister Carmen, was a formidable force no one could dismiss. Priests would come and go, but the nuns were a constant. She knew all the families, community background, and what needed to be done. She organized the Ava Maria Club for girls that met every Saturday. While we performed various chores around the church, there were plenty of times for other pursuits --- birthday parties, field trips, jam making and sampling, and much more.

This group morphed into the Catholic Youth Organization as we grew into teenagers, and the boys were allowed to join. Activities changed but the leadership was constant as we hosted many dances and included teens throughout the community. 

Probably the last episode of Sister Carmen’s influence on my life was when I got married. My future husband was a non-Catholic and his father was a lay minister. Of course, we wanted him to help with the service. The Pope had actually ruled on that issue the summer of our wedding and would allow it--totally coincidental timing. At first, the local priest told me it would not be possible. I remember agonizing about it and had no idea how to break it to it to my fiancé. Somehow the priest miraculously changed his mind and did allow it. I have no idea how it all got changed, but I felt Sister Carmen was behind it.

Thank you “Call the Midwife” for bringing back these fond memories and for humanizing these wonderful women who did so much for so many children. I know some people have horror stories about their experiences in the church, and for that I am so sorry and find it inexcusable. I wish they could have had the positive productive encounters I had. 

For an hour on Sunday nights, I am enthralled with the important work of the midwives and nuns in a section of London that desperately needed their help. They are embraced and welcomed by the families, similar to those years when European immigrants come to remote mountain towns and gravitated toward the church for comfort in a new land. 

Frances       

043 Staging

It had to be my staging!

We sold our house in Florida!

We listed it on a Monday and signed a contract on Thursday of the same week.

It was probably just a lot of lucky coincidences, but I prefer to believe it was my staging

Watching all those HGTV shows was not a waste.  I knew from those terrible houses that they feature on the "turn-your-house-around-to-sell" programs (I think they make them worse before the filming . . .) that there are certain rules to follow for good staging:

• Declutter
• Depersonalize--no family pictures or accessories that are to personal or taste-specific.
• Create a story
• Make the folks they are at home and would like to live here
• Group accessories in sets of three or five

Searching websites brought a few more tips:

• No more than three pieces of furniture per wall
• Pile up beds with lots of pillows

We moved out excess furniture, painted a few crucial areas, and cleaned like crazy.  Then we began moving furniture.  I arranged everything and then would view from the door to see what was the first impression as one walked into each area.  That helped me group furniture and wall art to the best effect.  

I wanted people to feel as if they were coming to a beach vacation home and mainly achieved that with accessories.  I already had a ocean-blue hanging rack right inside the front door.  To that I added my thrift store purchases--a woven beach purse ($5) and a pair of matching flip flops ($1) with an old pair of sunglasses to set the mood.  I also purchased several prints with seashore themes to adorn the walls.  My criteria for these $10 or $20 purchases is that they had to be something I would use in the future.  I visited a lot of thrift stores!

( also bought a bed
comforter with two matching 
shams at a thrift store 
and then visited many
others to find coordinating
pillow shams and fabric. 






I did not have enough pillows to fill all the shams, but towels, sheets, etc., stuffed inside pillowcases worked.  (As long as no one tried to lift them, for they were very heavy pillows!)  I made cylinder-shaped pillows by rolling fabric around a towel and pinning in the edges.

Nor did I own enough accessories to depersonalize completely, but I wonder if anyone noticed how many statues of readers were in the hutch and in other locations.

I found another use for books--decorative objects.  Funny, I had always used them for reading!  They come in all shapes and colors and invite the viewer to curl up in a chair to read.  I even put out a book sale purchase, a Far Side paperback in case there were bored kids (or adults!) in the group.

Other thrift store bargains--matching coffee cups and tray and another tray to go with my own wine glasses.  I put pink flamingo glasses with colorful place mats on the kitchen table.  I wanted visitors to imagine having a snack in the kitchen, coffee in the living room, and wine on the porch.  Fearing the batteries would die in the decorative clocks, I removed the batteries and set clocks to 5 o'clock!  While at the thrift stores, you could observe me picking up and smelling a lot of candles--just to find the ones with strong pleasant scents that would override that stale empty house smell.

We were fortunate that we did not have to live in the staged house--much simpler!  I would not have enjoyed staging so much if I had to clean up after my husband and dog! But it was fun.  Now I think I will stage my house to live in . . . except for the depersonalization!  

Savvy Trish          

042 Birthdays

OH, NO!   It’s MY Birthday

Savvy Frances’s blog on 100th birthdays is this week’s inspiration. No, I take that back. Not inspiration--more of a BIG reality check on just how old I am. I am one of those women “of a certain age,” a baby boomer, an AARP member, and a Medicare card holder. 

When I look in the mirror each morning with toothbrush in hand, I wonder where did all those years go? Am I the same person I was twenty years ago? Fifty years ago? I have concluded the answer is both yes and no. 

The basic beliefs I learned from family and community are still the same. In some ways, I am far different than that naïve, people-pleaser I was before teenage years. I do love to “stir the pot” a bit now and then. I find this more and more stimulating to my brain cells as I get older, but not necessarily wiser. 

Now, let’s get to birthdays themselves. About most events in life, I am not a shy person: speaking in front of others, organizing events, meeting new people--no problem.

When it comes to birthdays, however, I want to run and hide. Maybe some psychoanalysis is needed. I am embarrassed being the center of attention for being born on a certain day. I had no and have no control over this!  So, now we are at a time where gifts and parties are expected. 

Gifts are fun, but how did gift-giving and parties become part of birthday traditions? Seems the birthday thing is the result of pagan tradition according to internet searches. Evil spirits lurk on days of personal change – e.g. one’s birthday. Thus, candles were lit and neighbors and family came bearing gifts to appease these spirits. Ancient Greeks believed that each person had a spirit or sign that attended one’s birth. And astrology attached itself to birthdays as well. 

I would say that I do 

not believe in 

astrological signs, 

but aren’t they fun?

I am a Taurus. 

Hmmm, seems to 

describe me 

only too well! 

But Taureans are also hard-working and determined. If you give a Taurus a task, it will get finished. May 2015, said a free online horoscope, would be "filled with job satisfaction" (I am retired!), but "not a good month for relationships . . ."  Interesting and so open to interpretation. 

So this is my decision regarding this year’s birthday. I will NOT obsess about my age. I can’t do anything about it. There is no reason to recall what “might have been” or “what if.” It is what it is! (Enough clichés?) If you are disappointed in a gift or non-gift or receive no birthday greetings from someone special, log-in to your Facebook page. That should hold you for a while! 

And should anyone ask what I want for my birthday – remember money is still green and so is an emerald, the birthstone for May. Just kidding, of course! I really have no “bucket list” of gifts.

Thank you for your good wishes and happy birthday to you, too! 

Glenne          

041 100 Years

Interviewing 100-Year Olds

Reaching the age of 100 has become more commonplace in the last decade. During my tenure working for a community newspaper, I had the privilege of interviewing many who turned 100. A definite plus for me was the enrichment of my life by meeting these centenarians and telling their stories.

When I first started my job in the early 2000s, there were a few each year. As the decade progressed, the numbers grew. When I retired in 2014, I was averaging two or three interviews a month.

Reasons are varied--possible genetics, life style, luck of the draw--but there are no clear-cut answers. Some areas of the world have more centenarians than others, but causes are uncertain.

One fact I can definitely state is that most of those I interviewed were women. I could count the men on one hand. Also, most were Caucasians with few minorities in the mix but that could be attributed to the makeup of this community.

In addition, I can conclude--most were average weight, alert, and had a vice or two. Some had smoked all their lives until about the age of 70 or 80, and others liked a little nip of wine or alcohol daily. Most had driven a vehicle through their 90s until their driver’s licenses had been revoked voluntarily or by the DMV.

When asked if they had ever thought they would live to be 100, most said absolutely not and were surprised to still be alive.

There are also many other contributing factors, such as religion or not, keeping up with current events and news, staying at home or living in a facility, tending to gardens, cooking, grocery shopping, dietary choices, and other activities.

Often it would take cajoling and prompting to get them to talk about their accomplishments. If I could find a peg (military service, career, family ties, community work, sports, gardening, church affiliations) that would jolt their memories, then I could write a story with a little more substance.

I was impressed that most listed family as the lasting legacy they would leave. Their advice to others about longevity was always interesting, including “don’t worry”, “work hard”, “have faith,” and “love your families.”

I did witness a tremendous amount of love from family members for the 100 year olds. Sometimes it wasn’t even a child taking care of his or her parent, but a niece, nephew, inlaw, cousin, or other family member whether the 100 year old lived at home or in a facility. The message was definitely one of sincere love and devotion. Sometimes they would call me and let me know the centenarian had died and were overcome with grief as they told me. Other times they called to keep me informed of how the loved one was faring.

Generally, the centenarians were the first in their families to reach 100. Rarely did they have a sibling who was still alive but if they did, usually the brother or sister were much younger.

Most of them did not live much past the 100 mark. An exception to this was two cousins in this area that reached the centenarian mark in the same decade. One lived to be 105 and the other 107. That connection makes the case for genetics and was the only one I witnessed in my years of interviewing.

One of them lived alone until she was 107 and then decided to go live with her daughter who was half way across the country. She was spry, alert and full of energy. I will never forget how she told me she was leaving on a train but would come back in an urn. And that is exactly what happened not too long after she had made the move.

Her cousin was also alert but not as physically active. Her son and his wife had moved in with her. She continued to cook and remained socially active until the last couple of years of her life.

Who knows --- maybe in about 30 years or so – some of us will be reaching the 100 mark and wondering “how did this happen!”

Savvy Frances    

040 Blessings

 

Big Small Blessings

I’ve never personally known the author of an authentically printed novel. I guess my expectations were not high when I started reading Small Blessings by Martha Woodroof although I have enjoyed all other radio and written pieces that I have listened or read from her. After this fun read, I felt compelled to share it.
 


Small Blessings is now
available in paperback.



Small Blessings is an enjoyable read that kept me coming back until I finished it. The characters were believable and likeable. The situations in which they found themselves were funny and surprising at every page turn. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen to them next.  

One of the main characters is Rose, the bookstore community relations person in a small Southern woman’s college. This is the same position that Martha once held at Sweet Briar College. That is the difficulty of knowing the author. I pictured Rose as Martha as I read. Rose is described as having a full head of curly hair, but every time she tossed her head and hair, I saw Martha tossing her long straight hair over her shoulder.


All the characters found Rose easy to talk to and sharing their secrets with her—just like Martha, the great radio interviewer. Rose and Martha both spent time in Texas and did not finish college. Knowing the author probably meant I could not fully appreciate Rose as the full character she is.


 


Perhaps I should describe the plot. The book follows that adventures of a college professor—his mentally-ill wife dies, he learns he has a son, has custody issues, and falls in love—while alcoholics on campus have various misadventures. I did not list all the plot complications because that is the fun of reading Small Blessings. I make it sound like a light-hearted romp, but there is a depth of feeling and humanity about the work that adds to its appeal.I thought there were a few weaknesses in the book. Something that I did not find resolved in the novel was why Rose suffered panic attacks in the college classroom, and I kept expecting something. The novel also had an ending that seemed too pat. I am not sure if there was another way to end it, but upon reflection, it felt like the ending of a romance novel.

But after finishing the book, I did not regret reading it. In fact, I eagerly anticipated each new time of reading Small Blessings and recommend it to all of you savvy readers!



A few reviews from marthawoodroof.com

“Woodroof nails the debut novel: This warm, wise tale leaves a smile long after the final page is turned.” —People Magazine

 “This book is a charmer: quirky, clear-hearted and effervescent.” —Oprah.com

Savvy Trish