One of my first posts was as a guest contributor to The Seekers Dungeon on the theme of Walking with Intention. It is one of the stories about my bugs. Please take a look and let me know what you think.
https://theseekersdungeon.com/2015/11/20/walking-with-intention-day-20-by-kathie-arcide/
The Reward
“You can’t trust kids; they’ll grow up while your back is turned.” Teresa Bloomingdale
Ever witness something so beautiful, it hurts. Ever come across a scene that freezes you in your tracks and makes you wish fervently that you had a camera with you, or the talent of a poet so you could really convey what you are seeing to others.
Ever see or hear something you are desperate to share with others only to realize that it might actually be happening just for you.
Ever feel that tidal wave of gratitude when you realize you are finally being rewarded for your endless, sometimes heartbreaking work all those years as a parent?
I have.
After my precious two year old grandson, JuJu, had been terribly sick for days, his parents asked me if I could come and sit with him while they went to an afternoon movie for a much needed break.
I spit out an unqualified YES before they finished verbalizing the request.
My grandson Julius and I are seriously bonded. I would do anything for him. I am fueled by a shameless, unconditional love over which I am completely powerless. I consider my life exceptional in the sheer number of opportunities I have been given to love deeply but no one could have prepared me for the quality and quantity of this affection and protection I feel toward him.
I am not that grandparent who enjoys spoiling the grand kids but am relieved to send them home. (This might be a little bit about being a mom who had to raise a son alone, riddled with guilt while working three jobs and going to school, but getting a second chance to “do it right” with her grandsons.)
Because of proximity, I have been given the profound honor of participating in the lives of my grandsons daily. Like an old-fashioned extended family tradition, (at the time of this writing) they live directly across the street.
Reactions to our family’s living circumstance range from dismay at the imagined expectation of responsibility, to blatant and petulant jealousy at my fortunate nearness to my grandchildren….this latter being primarily (and naturally) from Julius and Luca’s other grandparents.
For us, it just plain works. We all seem to love it and benefit from it. I was raised myself, without any extended family in the picture, but in what might be described as the forerunner to the 1960’s commune type of life. Created Family. My Mom adopted stray kids right and left like others adopt cats. And, after some of my teens and early twenties were spent in actual communes, I continued a form of that tradition with my son, always sharing our uniquely configured house, with at least two or three people, often other single parents struggling to raise children of various ages. Over the years, we would start out calling them “renters” but before long each new group became like family.
I have always believed “It takes a Village”….
Anyway, on this particular day, an extremely ill JuJu had awakened from his third or fourth nap of the day, but this time he was pulled from the relief of sleep because he had one of those sick-kid, diarrhea blowouts that required not only a diaper change but an entire load of laundry to clean up. After taking him into the shower to remove his clothes and to, in essence, hose him down, Michael had dressed Julius in fresh PJs and was drying his hair with a towel. Julius had been the kind of sick that has you achy all over, writhing and stretching for some kind, any kind of relief. Poor baby had not been able to lie still or stop whimpering for days, except during his frequent, fevered naps.
So, unnoticed by either of them I enter the bedroom and see the following scene. Michael and Julius are on the bed with Juju’s tiny limp legs draped over his father’s so that they are two overlapping bodies. This Dad is leaning close to his boy and whispering something over and over that I can’t make out. All the while Dad is ever so slowly and gently rubbing, fluffing and massaging Julius’s long and curly wet hair with a big fluffy towel. He does this well after JuJu’s hair is dry. It is obvious that Michael is continuing because Julius is finally quiet, so relaxed, completely mesmerized by this gentle, nurturing gesture from his “DaDa”.
Julius, already a gorgeous child, has the lovely, peaceful face of an angel. He never takes his eyes from his Daddy’s.
I can remember the exact sensation of a dangerously hot-faced little boy’s cheek next to my own. I know, in the muscle-memory of my arms, if I were to pick up this tiny boy right now he would be a noodle…like sleeping-baby dead weight. He is so tranquil and blissfully pain free for the first time in days.
This father/son love scene continues for a very, very long time…..until Julius drifts off to sleep again. I take over so his Mom and Dad can get out for a bit. It’s been a long week.
Skip ahead to later that evening. I go back across the street to check on Michael and the patient. Juju’s fever has broken and he is on the mend.
As I am leaving, though I don’t want to intrude or embarrass my son, I tell him what I saw earlier in the day. I tell him how beautiful it was to spy on such profound father/son love. I apologize to him for my part in his never having had a father to do this for him when he was a child. I thank Michael for being the Dad I always knew he would be but that no one else would have ever believed.
He gently took me by the shoulders, looked into my eyes and said (with that slightly impatient tone of his that says duhhh), “Mom. I’m just doing for my boy exactly what you used to do for me.”
wow.
(excerpt from a chapter of my book)
*A minor disclaimer about the top photo. Those are not scars on Michael’s face or holes in his t-shirt. My scanner was down so I had to photograph an old photo that was wrinkled and full of pinholes.
Windows
My house has been added on to so many times we have truly lost track of the square footage….probably close to 4000.
But she was just a one bedroom cabin in her youth. Born in 1908, she was picked up off her foundation and moved up the hill in the 1930’s because she was sinking due to the underground springs beneath her.
She is by far, the oldest house around for many miles. I bought her in 1975 for $40,000.
Now, she has 6 rooms upstairs (2 bedrooms, a bathroom, office, living room and kitchen) and 9 rooms downstairs (3 more bedrooms, 2 more bathrooms, another living room, a laundry room, a kitchenette, and a large Therapy Group room/office). There is also a music/workout room in process making it 10 rooms downstairs.
She has 32 windows. From 20 of those, you can see other windows in the house.
Just think about that for a minute.
She is seriously, quite a character.
From this window I can see…
this window
And many other windows provide visual connections throughout the house.
It is often how I find my cats. I just check their favorite windows….
https://theseekersdungeon.com/2016/06/09/on-living-and-dying-day-20-by-kathie-arcide/ (Trying this link again…)
It’s one thing to write something for my much appreciated 87 “followers” but to be included on a Blog that has thousands is both awesome and intimidating!
My contribution to The Seeker’s Dungeon “On Living and Dying” event is up. It is one of my all-time favorite and very best true stories!
You can find my post at: https://theseekersdungeon.com/2016/06/09/on-living-and-dying-day-20-by-kathie-arcide/
I have loved reading the various guest posts in this series, (and actually everything on this Blog). If you visit The Seeker’s Dungeon, consider checking them out!
If you’d like to become one of the guest authors there, you can learn more about the event here: 365 Days On Living and Dying.
Today is November 11th, 2009.
Yesterday, on the 10th, I went to my Mother’s grave…..for the first time. She died in 1969. It took me forty years and 11 days before I could finally go. She is buried in the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in Point Loma, California in honor of her three years, eight months, and seventeen days of service in the Navy during WW II.
Each year on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day, I try to remember and acknowledge all those in my family, in my tribe who have served, or who lost someone, but I didn’t really think about honoring my own Mom until last year.
Here is some of what I wrote after my first visit to her grave:
“I realized this morning that part of why this veteran’s Day is so emotional for me is that, much to my embarrassment, I just remembered that my own mother proudly served in the U.S. Navy. This year I have really felt inspired to include her in my gratitude. Maybe it was the recent suggestion by some long estranged relatives that her remains be transferred from the military cemetery in San Diego, to a Mormon family plot in Salt Lake City.
The irony of this was completely lost on my relatives. Throughout my mother’s adult life, these same relatives are the people who shunned my mother for not abiding by the teachings she did not believe in from their church….and now they want her back??
My Mom died before I ever got to find out what her experience in the Navy really meant to her. What a bold and brazen step it must have been for her to take…maybe not that much different than any woman of that time but, along with whatever patriotism fueled her, for her it carried the additional weight of knowing her decision would probably cut the last of her ragged ties to her family. Mormon women in the 1940’s simply did not leave their families and their church to join the military.
I will never forget something she said to me in the Sixties when I was idealistically fussing about some of the guys I loved, “brothers” really, for not fighting their draft notices. She said “You can’t possibly know what all goes into a person’s decision to join the Armed Services. So stop judging”. I’m sure her statement was laden with personal information too.
I am so sad that I will never truly know, but I am also grateful to her for her service, her parenting and for her planting the seeds for what has turned out to be my mission in life….to develop a theory about Dual Realities, to study Absolutism VS Pluralism, and to find compassion for all sides of any conflict.
It was her comment that helped me see that I could be a full blown Flower Child/Hippie/Peacenik at the very same time I was loving and supporting Vets returning from Vietnam, as well as mourning those who didn’t. I protested the War, but also protested the protesters who were so cruel to returning Vets.”
A few years back I sent out a Thank You letter to all the Vets in my life. It captures the attitude I have tried to embrace because of my mother’s teachings and her brave examples.
“Well, it is Veteran’s Day again, and we are still at war.
You all know I am not particularly political, but on this day I get pretty emotional.
On Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day I always try to visit the cemetery close to my house. I don’t know anyone there really, but somehow, the way they honor Vets and those killed while in the service really touches me. The entrance is lined with hundreds of huge American Flags and there are tiny flags and crosses all over the graves, placed intermittently so I assume they are in honor of those who have died for our country.
Though I consider myself a committed pacifist, even in the sixties when I marched and demonstrated for PEACE, I could not, would not tolerate any degrading of those who served by going to Vietnam. Granted, many went thinking they had no choice, in their call to duty or in the draft, but I always supported the military folks in our midst. (I knew too many of you over there!)
When the traveling Vietnam Wall came here, I visited it several times. When I went to see the original in D.C. I had 17 names to look up; all friends and “brothers” of mine from grade school through high school.
Anyway, the reason I am writing to all of you is to, again, THANK YOU for your service, your sacrifice and your contribution to our country. I deeply admire and respect you for it.
I still feel some kind of universal regret for the way we, in my generation, treated our Veterans coming home from Vietnam.
Earlier this year, during the Super Bowl, a public service spot was aired for the first time. It still haunts and inspires me to this day. It went something like this.
Picture an airport terminal, the waiting area, many people, probably holiday delays. They look really settled in. The camera pans over kids playing, people napping, stuff strewn about…..and then it zooms in on the face of an older woman who obviously has caught sight of something that stirs her. We see her, with some effort, stand up…and she begins to clap. The camera shows one person, then 2, then several following her line of vision….and they each in turn also stand up and begin to clap. Soon, there is a full-on standing ovation, and the camera turns to reveal the focus of their applause. It is a group of returning Armed Service folks, with their military gear, coming though the arrival gate door, looking pained and beleaguered…..until we see it slowly dawn on each of their very young, but well worn faces (Black, white, Hispanic, female) that they are being recognized, honored, and welcomed home. The way each of their expressions changes, some embarrassed, awkward, surprised, some grateful, some relieved, and a couple of hulking, macho-types even moved to tears….well, I ache with chagrin that we didn’t know to do this after Vietnam, for our returning Vets.
Sitting at the end of the long drive into the cemetery, listening to the rows of hundreds of huge flags making that unmistakable flapping sound in the wind, I felt deep gratitude for each of you and said a prayer for all those you must have lost, for the ones we all have lost, and for the ones the other side loses every time we fight a war.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Anyway, yesterday at my Mom’s grave, I had a mixture of emotions. It is a beautiful site really, surrounded by my favorite San Diego tree, the Star Pine, with the most stunning view of the ocean.
Mostly, I felt the seemingly life-long pain of missing my Mom, who I lost long before I became a chronological adult. I felt a deep sadness that wanted to come out of me in a wail that would shake the branches right off those Star Pines.
I will make my traditional visit to a local cemetery later today. There will be flags flying everywhere.
I will close my eyes and listen to that amazing American Flag flapping sound, so familiar in my cells, stirring in my bones. I will transport myself back in time to Point Loma. I will stand at my Mom’s grave and remember the sun on my face, the ocean down below and I will hear countless flags flapping all around me….the ones that are there today to honor my mother and all those thousands of her compatriots.
If I can, I will go back even further in my mind’s eye, back to 1968, and I will stand before my Mom, before she took her own life. I will look right into her beautiful, haunted blue eyes, and I will tell her how, by example, she taught me how to stand up for my deepest held beliefs, to fight for what I think is right and to dig deep into myself to understand the viewpoint from the other side of the fight, any fight. I will tell her how grateful I am to have known so many courageous and dedicated Veterans even though I do not believe or condone war in any form. I would thank her for encouraging me to be patriotic in my own way.
And I will say “Thank You, Mom, for your stunningly brave, and multi-leveled service to our country.”
________________________________________________________________
My father was such a quiet and unassuming man, I forget that he was also in the Armed Services, the National Guard Mounted Cavalry, in the early part of the 20th century. He never told me much about that experience except this one time when he described in vague but emotional terms, what it was like to be trained in how to kill a man with a bayonet.
There is one thing Tom Bessey’s children would never have known about during his lifetime because he was way too modest. But after he died, we found something in the small box of his most treasured possessions (pictures of us girls, letters from his father, and a picture of him with our mother).
There was also a letter from his commanding officer recommending him to West Point.
I used to send my yearly “Veteran’s Thank You letter” to him along with everyone else and he never said a word….knowing him, just too difficult to talk about.
This year, all I can say is Thank You once again to each of you for your service and thank you to your families who are “veterans” also.
I feel honored to know you, grateful for your contributions to my freedom and mostly, for your presence in my life.
Love,
Kathie
PS My favorite quote from my Dad….I remember him using it about my protesting the Vietnam War………..
“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”
Now you see where my current day favorite quote comes from….
Ah…..the magic of a chosen perspective……
this can’t be a good sign…I guess I should look up more often…
I’ve looked into these FACES since the day each was born. I’m totally in love with BOTH of them!!!
Face The instructions this week for the WordPress Photo Challenge were “show us a face — and feel free to share the story”.
A treasure found, and rescued, from among the discarded belongings of my adopted Dad when he passed away. I have a vague memory of him telling me the story, something about the 1,000 faces of Buddha...picked up in his post Air Force travels, I believe.
I love this piece! I can only imagine the patience and talent this took. If anyone knows more about this, will you please comment?
Happy 10th Anniversary to my James ♥
Dear Natchez High Class of 1966, (the longest “christmas Letter” ever!)
After we left y’all at our 40th Reunion in 2006, James and I have made quite a life for ourselves. You all witnessed the beginning of us, (unless you actually remember even earlier…James and I hanging out back in high school during The King and I rehearsals). Some of you probably spotted the potential before either one of us did.
Actually, it was pretty instant. Eye contact at the Pig Roast at Everett’s. We both knew even before we even arrived back to our separate homes out West in June, 2006.
Spotted this on my long drive home that June
I was the more resistant at first, not wanting to be in a long-distance relationship. (This was when I thought James still lived in Mississippi.) But when I found out that he was just across my local mountains, a mere 4 hour drive (from Bellevue to Spokane, WA.) I was a goner. No excuses. Early on, we had fun discovering the mutual secret crushes we both hidden in our adolescent friendship during our time together at NACHS.
During our first couple of years together since that reunion, the 4 hour drive was sometimes inconvenient, but both of us willingly accepted the challenge and began making room in our separate lives for each other.
Sometimes all we had time for was driving two hours each, meeting halfway between our homes but that became another sweet adventure. Talk about meeting in the middle of nowhere! This is the Columbia Gorge.
We have now lived in both our places for most of these 10 years.
Learning about each other’s’ lives since high school has unearthed so many experiences in common…and many near misses as our paths almost crossed…serendipity!
We both “served our country”, James, by being in the Army during the Vietnam era, and me, by becoming a VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America), our country’s Peace Corp.
James in Vietnam Kathie in Birmingham
We both lived in the San Francisco Bay area at the same time, during the height of the Haight/Ashbury Hippie days.
We both travelled the country and chose the beautiful Northwest in which to settle. A couple of times, I was back in Mississippi while James was out West, in San Diego (where I had returned to after high school in Natchez) just missing each other.
We have both inherited such wonderful things from each other’s lives.
We have two homes now; one, a gorgeous mountain retreat, built by James with his own talented hands! And one, a unique suburban homestead, much of which has been built (or held together with duct tape) by my own hands.
My misleading “little house”…it’s actually quite large
I get to have live music regularly in my life now, as James has continued to play off and on professionally.
He and my son connected over music right away.
Michael and James on guitar photo
James at a Spokane gig
James got me on the Harley
and I gave him a family
![DSC03582[1]](https://i0.wp.com/chosenperspectives.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/dsc035821.jpg?w=98&h=131&ssl=1 "DSC03582[1]")
James with his new family
James gave me his circle of friends that have been meeting every Wednesday night for over 20 years at what they call The Wheel. (This is an amazing group of folks in Spokane who gather on a mountain top to celebrate Nature and to support each other. They call it the “Church of the Blue Dome”.)
The Wheel
And I gave him my sister’s home in the San Juan Islands where we get to house-sit every year for a few weeks.
Oh, my sister’s husband is now one of J’s very best friends.
They think they are so tough. Lenore and I think they are just HOT!
We have had great travel adventures. We’ve been back to Natchez several times, almost bought an “older home” there, and with each visit, we gained weight by filling up on real catfish and hushpuppies…oh, and fried green tomatoes and dill pickles.
My sweet cousins and me
We took an amazing road trip on the Harley, down the West Coast as far as Pacific Grove, and camped in the Redwood Forest, which James had never seen before! (below)
We have been to San Diego a few times, enjoying the Beach Life I grew up in…
And we have both tried to make up for all the lost time by sharing our Mothers with each other.
James and siblings visiting Mother Alma’s grave in Natchez
James even went with me to visit my Mother’s grave for the very first time.
My mother’s grave in the Fort Rosecrans military cemetery in Point Loma
And a huge highlight for me is that James was with me and my son and his family, when we reunited with my long lost daughter, Pamela and her family.
![DSC03569[2]](https://i0.wp.com/chosenperspectives.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/dsc035692.jpg?w=326&h=245&ssl=1 "DSC03569[2]")
![DSC03572[1]](https://i0.wp.com/chosenperspectives.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/dsc035721.jpg?resize=388%2C291&ssl=1)
Me, with BOTH my children at the same time…a dream come true
We have done so much to improve our two homes.
James has used his amazing skills to fix up, save and improve my Bellevue home of 40 years now. It’s over 100 years old and needed his talent. He even built me a Group Therapy Room so I could bring my practice home after I sold my long time office building. It’s really the very best room in the whole house.
And I introduced James to my 38 years long best friend and former business partner and he and his wife and James and I have added on the equivalent of another home to J’s mountain “cabin” so we can all live together as we age. (All four of us WRITE! My best friend and his wife are both published, she has even won an award http://www.patriciacleary.net/ ).
But James is the sleeper. He is incredibly talented! The novel he’s working on rivals anything Grisham has written and, dare I say it, maybe even our own Greg Iles. (James will deny this, LOUDLY.) I’m writing a nonfiction book that will hopefully be a legacy for my grandchildren, at least.
Casa Esmeralda-Before and After (named, as James often does, after Emerald Mound)
James and I are so grateful to have connected at this later point in our lives because we know we probably would not have survived with each other earlier, given all the hard relationship lessons we both had to learn.
We really wanted to come to the 50th Reunion this year, and had planned to when we thought it would be Memorial Day weekend. We were going to dance outrageously and give y’all “Something to Talk About”……………(You’ll have to get James to tell you the story of Bonnie Raitt singing that very song to him!!!)
But instead, you get the world’s longest “Christmas Letter”!
So sorry to miss you all. And I hope you turn the town upside down this weekend!!
Love and Hugs from,
Kathie Bessey Arcide and James Carl Fletcher
(although he doesn’t know I’m doing this! It is my anniversary gift to him!!) ♥
My favorite picture!
PS Someone posted this recently.
http://www.natchezrebels.org/james/
Was it you Larry?
Face
