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When I moved in with my parents, I set up things in stages. I had a week and a half to unpack the essentials, prioritizing my home office. After cleaning out all the things my parents had stored in the downstairs room, I rearranged the room, using the pre-existing furniture.
Eventually, I replaced the desk, which was actually an ol’ school sewing machine table. Then I replaced the chair, which had no arm rests, no head rest, nor lumbar support.
Professional-Looking Office Chair
To go with my sleek looking desk and adjustable standing desk, I bought a sleek-looking black office chair. Just as one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, the comfortableness of office chairs shouldn’t be judged by their looks.
No matter what I did, I never sat in that chair comfortably while working. I added a pillow for my back, but the chair’s head rest couldn’t be moved forward to support my head while looking at the monitors. Even adding a portable lumbar support didn’t help much.
Gamer’s Chair
After fidgeting with it for months, I returned to my senses and got an inexpensive gamer’s chair. (Perhaps too cheap because the armrests aren’t adjustable!) I’d bought my first gamer’s chair a few years ago, reasoning that if people a fourth of my age could sit comfortably for 12 hours or more, then a middle age woman could sit for a few hours a day when tired of standing.
Now, in between calls, I sit until a call comes in. I stand up, do what I can for the patient before returning to a seated position after the call concludes. It’s really the best of both worlds since before I bought my standing desk, I felt miserable sitting the whole time. This way, I’m getting slow aerobic exercise throughout my shift.
Not that I ever want to sit on my ass for eight hours unless I’m traveling, but even then, I want a comfortable seat. I have had enough of the ass-biting seats experience back when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer.
As a family, we’d kicked the housing can down the road until we’d just about reached the end. We’d been blessed with general good health until the complications of age and reduced mobility brought us to research and strategize alternative housing.
My parents bought their current house in 1979 when they were still physically vibrant, going up and down three flights of stairs was absolutely no issue. Until this past April, both parents had slowed their gait, but were still able to amble around the house.
When Dad entered rehab after partial hip surgery, many questions arose, regarding which facility he’d enter after leaving rehab since his insurance only covers 100 days. He’s not yet ambulatory, and needs another affordable high-quality place that offers physical therapy.
Coupled with that concern, were questions about where one of my nephews, who has Asperger’s, will live. Throughout his 32-year life, he’s only ever lived with my parents or with his mother, but never on his own. The major hurdle is that he doesn’t know how to live independently and may very well need to live in a supported group home for the rest of his life.
As an only child, his peers are coworkers and 3 out-of-state first cousins who he’s not close to. Part of that emotional distance has to do with having Asperger’s, but in general, my nephew has never received on-going services outside of an academic setting to practice being sociable.
Recently, I surveyed him about his independent-living skills. For such things like shaving or doing laundry, he stated that he knew how to do them, but my sister filled in the details behind those answers. He’s only ever shaved himself once and goes to the barber every couple of weeks for the rest. As far as laundry is concerned, he washes clothes every few days, but the loads are very small since he’s still not clear on what constitutes a proper load of laundry.
Fortunately, my other sister has been studying real estate. As I’ve researched resources for adults with autism, one of the first things that I confirmed was that the current group homes had no vacancies. As a former public school teacher, I already knew that there was always more need than resources.
That dismal conclusion had a positive spin in the autism literature when it stated that families of people with autism often find creative solutions to form supported group homes.
I shared that suggestion with my real estate sister. We had an energizing conversation. She’d studied about government funding for such a place. She brainstormed about checking out hotel properties and talking to one of our first cousins who’d worked in a similar setting.
When I informed my nephew that his aunt and her family would be his future landlords, I saw the flicker of excitement in his eyes. He’d finally be able to take this milestone step of more independent living with support.
Speaking of support, Mom chose to pay the expense for Dad to remain at rehab a month longer. By that time, hopefully a chair lift will be installed, so Dad can go from their bedroom on the top floor to the kitchen/dining room/living room area, located on the second floor. Also, she’s researching attendant options since Dad will still need assistance with some daily living activities.
In the meantime, the rest of us, my sisters and Mom, continue to hold down the fort as we search for more support while arranging suitable accommodations for Dad and my nephew.
This year marked our 82nd continuous Strange Family Reunion and the first time we were back in person after three years of virtually meeting during the pandemic. We essentially had two themes for this family reunion: “Back Down Memory Lane” and “Celebrating Our Second Generation Legacies.” What we meant by “second generation” was second freeborn generation as in their parents were not born into slavery and neither were they.
Strange Family Shelter
Historically, our family reunion was held at my maternal grandparents’ home. Then under trees in the combined backyards of several extended family members near my grandparents’ home. Finally, many relatives built a permanent shelter on family land.
Before You Eat…
Our IRL reunions run Friday through Sunday. During the pandemic, we all became more tech savvy. To plan for this year’s event, we held near weekly Zoom meetings to discuss programing for the entire weekend, along with divvying up roles. I suggested that some family could be “voluntold” the day of the event to lend a helping hand.
Fish fry & Grill
Every day unfolded like a well rehearsed play with few hiccups. Friday kicked off with our usual fish fry. Over the years, the menu has expanded to include vegan options with this year’s introduction of fried corn, which was so popular that they ran out. There was also a modest vegan buffet.
Frying Corn
I filled my plate with fish and sides. I didn’t bother with any of the grilled offerings, which included Mom’s favorite: hot dogs.
Grilling
For the first time ever, we had a kitchen manager who’d set three different menus and she had dedicated kitchen volunteers for all three days. Everything was very well organized and delicious. Next year, we’re planning to have even more kitchen staff on Saturday since that’s our main programing day. I suggested contracting a clean up crew for the end of each day.
Friday Kitchen Staff
We honored 12 of our elders and sat them at a head table on Saturday. Instead of having to wait in line or even going first in line, the honorees simply circled items on a printed menu of their selections and a food runner brought them their plate. That was one of many of the big hits during the reunion.
Food Line
We also honored them on Saturday by having those who were able to walk down the red carpet, pose for pictures before being seated at the head table. My contributions to the program were to show a presentation that I created, which gave a brief biography for each honoree, followed by reading an “Oscar” blurb before the honoree or their representative accepted a gift bag.
Elders Eat First
All throughout the three-day reunion, I walked around taking video clips. I’d changed the settings on my cameraphone to 4K. I’d researched and discovered that my antiquated iPhone 8 had the capability to capture film quality footage. For this event, I tested it out.
Red Carpet Pose
Although I had other means of capturing the event, I enjoyed practicing with my camera like a filmmaker, especially on Sunday when we had church service at the shelter prior to our final day of breaking bread together.
Sunday Kitchen Staff
One of my relatives, sang two gospel songs. I used both of them as the soundtrack to the nearly 6-minute video summary of our reunion. I knew before the event began that I didn’t want to narrate the video as I’d done the “Celebrating Our Second Generation Legacies” presentation. Nor was I going to use the the audio associated with the clips because they would have far too much noise. Those two gospel songs were the perfect solution.
Additionally, those clips were much longer than necessary–over 35 minutes altogether. Some schools of thought state that it’s better to have more than what’s needed for editing purposes. With practice, I can be more selective and time conscious when taking B-roll shots. Nonetheless, I trimmed the fat and shared the video with the rest of the family as one of several documentations of our reunion.
A year ago, I was living a very different life in Austin, TX. Although I had a decent full-time job with benefits, where I was paid every other week, I considered one paycheck mostly for rent and the other for all the other things I needed/wanted. In other words, I was in my least favorite financial place, living paycheck to paycheck without any end in sight.
Now with my parental subsidy, I have a “savings.” Not a nest egg. More like some cash ready to pay next month’s bills.
There’s always the hope of a trivial side hustle making it big. The twin reality: not quitting my day job any time soon. Nonetheless, I enjoy the small happy moments as they come.
Case in Point: I had the bright idea to call a nail salon, banking on the chance that they weren’t celebrating Independence Day. Lo and Behold! that paid off.
Not only did the receptionist tell me to come in within 15 minutes, but as I waited in the lobby for about three times that amount of time, I had the luxury of talking to my writer partner/friend.
Usually, I don’t take the time to talk with her for hours, in the middle of the day, during a week day. Yet this Independence Day found me free from the burdensome schedule of the 9 to 5. As I received a relaxing mani pedi, my friend talked with me during the entire time, including the drive there and back.
By the time I returned home, I was famished. Between my sister’s and Mom’s cooking, a meal fit for a queen awaited: ribs, sausage, string beans, and potato salad. I could have piled even more food on my plate, but saved something for dinner.
Afterwards, we piled into the car to run an errand before visiting Dad at rehab. I was like a well-fed baby who could barely stay awake once the car started moving. I kept dozing off.
By the time we arrived at Dad’s, I was groggy, but happy to have caught him during one of his physical therapy sessions. He was shaky on his legs, but I loved seeing him take a few steps at the tail end of his workout. He was tired.
Everyone except for Dad were dressed for the holiday. He was immersed in his own world, above all the hoopla. He generally feels like he’s in a prison because he’s been cooped up for so long. Yet, he’s free from all the hype.
In the end, I enjoyed my Tuesday day off. The only fireworks I saw were on TV from the comfort of home. Next day, back to the grind. Glory hallelujah!
For the 82nd continuous Strange family reunion, we celebrated our second freeborn generation. Our theme was “Back Down Memory Lane.” With help from extended family, I created a presentation with pictures, facts, and anecdotes about each honoree.
Making the best of a challenging situation, we revived our usual Sunday dinner at the rehab facility where Dad continued to convalesce. Mom made mac and cheese, greens, and deviled eggs. My sister picked up fried chicken and bought plates, utensils, cups and lemonade. For my part, I made naturally-dyed red velvet cupcakes, using a recipe I’d made once before, using a large beet as a natural source of the red dye.
Dad’s Only Smile while Eating His Cupcake
Dad had longed to break free of rehab and return home for weeks. We told him the same thing: he cannot return home until he can walk.
Too Busy Chewing to Smile
Although he’d made progress, we celebrated at rehab where the architecture accommodated the wheelchair with caregivers who helped transition him between the wheelchair and bed. Mom has said for years that she wanted a “ranch-style” house with everything all on one level.
Now there may be a solution. Mom has looked into military housing that will accommodate wheelchairs, walkers and other mobility supports. That would get Dad out of the rehab sooner because he’d have to walk as he was doing before to return to their actual home. I’d like to think of that military housing as a halfway house for Dad. At the same time, Dad may not like going to strange place that still isn’t home.
At some point in my pole fitness journey, I want to invert, which makes the difference between my current level and advancing to the next one, level 4. It’s a pretty daunting task to invert while on the pole. The fight against gravity is pretty gnarly when hanging on right-side up. What I’ve learned in the few months since I’ve been taking classes is that whatever skill I want to accomplish on the pole, should be practiced while off the pole.
Yoga Inversion Stand
Enter my new favorite exercise toy: a yoga inversion stand. When not in use, the stand serves as a foot rest in front of the only seat in the den that does not incline with a built-in foot rest.
Ready for Action!
Every morning, I remove the cushion, put my head through and pike up to vertical 10 times. The first time I used the stand, the experience amazed me. I easily inverted since the stand supported the brunt of my weight with the use of my shoulders.
Allegedly, five minutes of inverting is the equivalent of two hours of sleep. Thanks to my sinuses being stuffy in the mornings, I’ve yet to test out that theory. Thankfully, the sinus pressure lessens when I’m in pike position.
Another benefit I read about was that it would slim my waist. I scoffed at that one. Pretty much any weight loss would do that, so I didn’t dwell on that too much.
The underside of the cushion depicts several pictures of suggested exercises. I made up one of my own, which I refer to as “around the world.” While gripping the bars, I walk around the stand to complete a circle. At one point during the circuit, I must flip over into a back bend, then flip back over to return to the starting point. Of course, I circle in the opposite direction.
As ungracefully as I complete my around the worlds, my back only knows that it feels more sensational than it did prior to the exercise. That dynamic exercise is perhaps the best morning stretch I’ve ever done. No matter how late I wake up, I do that stretch. It doesn’t take but a minute to go in both directions. The reward far outweighs the time investment.
I’ll have to do other exercises for a more intensive core workout needed for pole inversion, but I’m definitely sticking to those around the worlds. So far, I only do one rotation in each direction, but I want to increase that once I get better at it. And improve my technique.
My parents have had their timeshare since the early 80s, but I hadn’t joined them on their beach vacation for years. Although the residence was showing its age, they’d recently done some renovations to modernize the place. The most notable was the zigzag ramp, which greatly helped shuffle our belongings from the car to the elevator with a dolly.
Vacation Libations
The room wasn’t ready by the time we arrived. Fortunately, by the time we’d loaded two dollies full of luggage, supplies and food, the room was ready, but we didn’t have a room keycard. Mom, who can’t walk as well as she used to, called the office and asked if her daughters could pick up the keycard, using her ID.
Shell-Blinged Jellyfish
One of the benefits of being a long-term timeshare owner was that they knew Mom even without the ID. My sister and I went down to get four keycards although I was almost sure that my nephew wouldn’t need his own.
Angelic-Looking Jellyfish
If I ever had control over my own schedule again, I’d love to begin my day with either a swim or a walk. Actually the last time I had control over my schedule, I attended a midday yoga class to break up my morning and afternoon blocks of work.
Frilly Jellyfish w Sea Foam
Beach combing for shells every morning definitely checked that box, especially since I like getting some form of daily exercise even when on vacation. Since my sister is an art teacher, she uses the shells in various projects.
Sea Foam Arced Jellyfish
Nonetheless, being out in nature while exercising are their own rewards. Plus, I get to hang out with my sister in a totally different setting than watching TV in the den. Half the time when I remark on something that was just shown, she would have already fallen asleep.
Although the premise was shell collecting, our turnaround point was always the pier in the distance. Whatever shells were collected from that excursion were the quota for the morning. To make things official, we’d touch the pier then turn on our heels and trek back.
Sea Foam Crowed Jellyfish w Shell
On the first outing, I shot a collection of jellyfish. My sister, who has apparently watched enough horror movies for a lifetime, marveled at how close I squatted the the subjects to compose the shots. Her paranoia was that one of them would make a sudden move to attack me.
Jellyfish w Understated Setting
As attractively as I shot the pictures, I still cropped them to capture something of the individuality of each jellyfish. There was absolutely no way I could know the personality of even one jellyfish, but relying on my understanding of genetic variation, something, even if on a genetic level, must be unique to each jellyfish.
Jellyfish w Busy Setting
Instead, I used the variations found in the setting, the shadows, tentacle position, and occasionally the coloring of the medusa to distinguish among the animals.
Red-Rimmed Medusa Jellyfish
One woman beat me to a jellyfish. I’d wanted her to not disturb it before I could take its picture lying washed ashore. She misinterpreted me asking her to stop by informing me that she wouldn’t sting herself. I told her that I wanted to take its picture, so she held it out for me to shoot before she tossed it back into the ocean, which I thought was an unnecessary act.
Do-gooder w Jellyfish
That was just a gut feeling on my part though. I didn’t know the lifecycle of jellyfish, but I did know that, despite their name, they weren’t fish. So they don’t have to concern themselves with getting oxygen from gills. In other words, they weren’t “fish out of water.”
Red-Rimmed & Marbled Medusa Jellyfish
I later confirmed my gut feeling about those beached mollusks. Although they start dying while they are out of the sea, they are hardier out of water than fish. Dead jellies can still sting, but the do-gooder had carefully picked it up by the medusa. Even if it were already dead, some other marine animal would make a meal out of it.
Jellyfish w Shadow
As we collected shells every morning, I couldn’t help thinking about who was going to love the broken shells. Of course, I was really thinking about flawed individuals and not really inanimate objects. That’s one of the beauties of vacationing…thinking of dreamy things while temporarily out of the daily grind.
Jellyfish w Sundries
As far as Mom was concerned, being on vacation essentially means doing her two favorite things in another setting: cooking and shopping. Not that I’ll ever complain about her cooking, but she initially thought that we weren’t going to dine at a seafood restaurant while in a beach town. She was swiftly out voted.
New Sandals w Jellyfish
Normally, I don’t care one bit about shopping. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t planned to buy anything while on vacation other than food, but my first beach walk proved to me that the new sandals I’d bought for just that activity couldn’t handle the terrain. The sand, whether wet or dry, tugged at my cute sandals a little too much. On all other terrain, they did fine. When I saw a pair of knockoff Tevas on sale, I bought a pair for myself and my sister. That strap around the back made all the difference.
Expert Beach Comber
On my last day, I saw an impressive humanmade beach scene. At the rate our environment is being slammed, I won’t be too surprised when giant turtles start attacking buildings.
Turtle Storming the Castle
Someone created my favorite sculpture after I left. My sister, who stayed twice as long as me, gifted me the picture. I’d talked about several starfish washed up on a Mexican beach once when I visited. At least this sculpture answered the question of who will love the broken shells.
For the 82nd continuous Strange Family Reunion, I joined the planning committee and was voluntold that I would make a presentation about the twelve second generation freeborn Strange legacies of which my mother is one. Sounds easy enough…until I started working on it.
To get the ball rolling, I designed an easy-to-use form, inviting extended family to provide at least three facts about any and all of the twelve. Two different family members mass emailed the form to extended family who had signed up to receive such missives, which I’m sure was a small fraction of the nearly one thousand Jesse Strange descendants. One person responded.
I resorted to texting. I got a few more bites, but still not as many as I originally wanted. I pivoted.
The only other sources of information about those legacies were the two other Strange Family created products: our history book and our calendar. Both were chocked full of facts, saving me from drilling my extended family even harder for facts.
Fortunately, one of my sisters had worked on the calendar and forwarded me digital copies of the pictures that I needed for the presentation. Thanks to the calendar committee, they had interviewed the twelve, providing me at least something to add to the presentation for each honoree.
At that point, I spent Memorial Day morning, interviewing two cousins about the twelve. They provided some interesting facts, which helped to spruce up the presentation. Another relative who I hadn’t called, texted several pictures of her mother along with three very interesting facts.
I thought my lack of familiarity with my extended family was due to having never lived in Cascade. Regardless, even people who grew up around the area only really knew the ones who they played with as children.
Perhaps I was too ambitious with my original plan. I’d wanted to further expand what we had already documented. Upon reflection, those other two sources were created through a committee effort and over many months.
In addition to those two factors, I wasn’t sure how much apathy played a part. When I called my two cousins on Memorial Day, they were very accommodating and gushed with stories about honorees who they knew well. The stopper wasn’t apathy, but rather technology.
In the future, I may have to front-load my initiatives at upcoming reunions for subsequent reunions. Whatever projects we have going on as a family, we have to survey people who attend the reunions to document things when we are face-to-face since we all have the everyday drama of our own lives. Add to that, being creatures of habit. Not all of us are tech-savvy and even if we are, may not take the time to respond to digital asks.
On two different levels, I knew better. I did it anyway. Someone else stepped up onto the higher moral ground and corrected me, sharing a few of the economic reasons feminism started in the US, along with the fact that not all those women were married. To be fair, that discussion group acknowledged, yes, racism was very problematic early in the beginning. At least now there’s more of an awareness of racism. Even so, I’d dismissively pronounced that feminism started in the US by bored White housewives.
Who the fuck cares about some shiny new future if you cannot envision yourself thriving in it?
Generational trauma and anger, coupled with an abundance of historical precedent informs me that women who looked like me, weren’t included in the fight for equality any more than the slaves who were counted in the census prior to 1865. Merely there to swell the numbers, so White people could use the total as leverage.
Where’s the fight now? Does the 45th president not inform us? Part of his legacy, the overturn of Roe v Wade, which he now distances himself from, was brought to us due to a significant number of White women voting for him in 2016.
Although many who voted for him in 2016 didn’t in 2020, 45’s Supreme Court looms in the fabric of our current times, ready to fetch us back to a time where women and other marginalized groups had fewer rights.
Like the perfect salve, Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider popped up next in my ever-growing booklist. Listening to her classic collection of essays and speeches soothed that raw part of my soul, reassuring me that I can still have a rich, wonderful life despite all the challenges.
I used to be disheartened when reading such classics and acknowledging that not too much has changed in the struggle: strong, independent, straight women still being accused of being lesbians; White feminists still claiming they cannot “find” more than a vast underrepresentation of women of color to consult/participate; pricey feminist conferences that all but guarantee that only women of a certain economic class and by default race can attend; the persistent belief that in order to be happy, one must have another group of people to look down upon.
Just like that, my anger subsided. More due to not having the luxury of time to fume about it. Both creative and paid work beckoned. Life goes on.
