My sister and brother seem to remember our childhood experiences so differently than I do; they make it sound like we never lived together. Seeing life through a different set of eyes does explain the depth of our personal, political, and emotional differences and is a clear indication of why it appears we are from entirely different backgrounds.
At my father’s funeral, in a casual conversation, I learned why there has always
been a wall between my sister and me. She believed my father had liked me more than he liked her -- sad and definitely untrue, but my father was not there to tell her the truth of the matter. I guess like all of us, especially children, the need to be loved is strong, only love feels and looks different to each person and this interpretation leads either to an unhappy life, or one of security.
My affection for my father flowed deep as did his affection towards me. It was as normal as breathing. I believe my mother and sister were jealous of this relationship. It was through my father’s wisdom, past down to me, that I developed a sense of worth. It was these seeds he planted in my mind that protected me in the days to come.
I married young and divorced young, leaving me a single mother of a two year old daughter. This experience made me realize that if I did not change my life style I would end up in another “routine marriage,” for the rest of my life, even though I intuitively knew this was not what I wanted. I knew I had to change me. My father may not physically be here, but he will never be gone.
My life had been so complicated up to then, with so many unusual circumstances and decisions to make, which I never felt capable of doing. As I look back now, I find it difficult to believe that I alone was able to come up with these correct answers. My decisions would either lead to a successful future, or sad failure. Was there an unseen force guiding me?
Now began the task of seeing my real self, my responsibilities for my daughter, my future life, interests, and those duties I could not shed. I never was successful trying to be friends with my sister, yet I had no difficulty striking up a friendship with strangers, especially those who stimulated my interests in serious reading, discussions, music, and the world around me. In this process, my new acquaintances convinced me I was more interesting than the way I saw myself. I began to realize I was more than just a people pleaser, who took care of the details for everyone.
At just the right time, my future husband showed up. Born in Finland, a Military
Intelligence officer in the American army, on his way to Europe, during World War II. Both of us were divorced, and each had one daughter. It only took three dates before we both realized we had fallen in love, but did not reveal it. I did not expect to hear from him again when he left for his responsibilities in Europe, I was wrong. Before he even reached Europe, his first letter said: “When I return, if we both feel the same way, I will ask you to marry me…” He did, and we were married as soon as he returned.
When I met my future husband he also saw qualities in me that my friends had seen. This was exactly what I needed, someone with a different viewpoint, who saw me differently -- through his Finnish European background. Together we began to develop serious interest in news, politics, music, art. I also learned to listen to serious discussions even if I did not have enough knowledge to follow them. Slowly, over the years these people and focus groups became a major part of our life.
This would be just the beginning of a life filled to over flowing. Our 50 years of marriage took us around the world, meeting Heads of State and political leaders from Israel, Germany, Scotland, France, Italy and Finland.
Was it by chance that everything fell into place or was God always there guiding my steps, even when I was too busy to pay attention?
Friday, March 13, 2009
WWII Trauma
A man in the building where I live asked me a question about WWII – Do you feel veterans were treated fairly after the war? Here’s my answer.
Did we treat the veterans of this War fairly? I don’t think so.
For more than twenty years after the war, GIs were told it was their negative psychological attitudes that was the reason for their physical symptoms they had developed once they had returned home from the front lines of war, and they were using these symptoms as an excuse for why they were unwilling to hold a job. In other words, they were being told they were lazy and didn’t want to work.
It took over thirty years after WWII before this myth was acknowledged as an error by the country – Government, Military Leaders, and the public. Apperently, the only wounds that were “real” were the ones you can see, like a missing limb or a gapping hole where shrapnel entered. I’m sure there was correct information out there about internal injuries, but it wasn’t being applied to the problems these GIs were experiencing. It appears some policy maker felt the potential cost of caring for “invisible” injuries was far too great and the budget took precedence over these problems.
Researchers, making this correct data available to the public, forced the army to finally confirm what the GIs had been saying was true; their mental problems were not caused by their attitudes, but by their brain’s response to the violent shellings they had experienced for years during their tour of duty. The army had no choice but to finally acknowledge the truth and shell-sock is now a common word associated with this kind of injury.
Did we treat the veterans of this War fairly? I don’t think so.
For more than twenty years after the war, GIs were told it was their negative psychological attitudes that was the reason for their physical symptoms they had developed once they had returned home from the front lines of war, and they were using these symptoms as an excuse for why they were unwilling to hold a job. In other words, they were being told they were lazy and didn’t want to work.
It took over thirty years after WWII before this myth was acknowledged as an error by the country – Government, Military Leaders, and the public. Apperently, the only wounds that were “real” were the ones you can see, like a missing limb or a gapping hole where shrapnel entered. I’m sure there was correct information out there about internal injuries, but it wasn’t being applied to the problems these GIs were experiencing. It appears some policy maker felt the potential cost of caring for “invisible” injuries was far too great and the budget took precedence over these problems.
Researchers, making this correct data available to the public, forced the army to finally confirm what the GIs had been saying was true; their mental problems were not caused by their attitudes, but by their brain’s response to the violent shellings they had experienced for years during their tour of duty. The army had no choice but to finally acknowledge the truth and shell-sock is now a common word associated with this kind of injury.
Friday, March 6, 2009
PREDICTION OR FICTION?
I find it fascinating to read the predictions for the daily horocope on Aquarius. An Aquarius, is born between January 20 – February 18. After reading them for almost a year, I finally found one that fits perfectly.
Coded with five stars, it says:
Your ability to see past the obvious could make a big difference.
Understand what is going on behind the scenes. Sometimes
observation takes on a bigger role and more significance than
asking question. Tonight: Let your mind wonder.
My next step is to see who is responsible for the comments – or are
they opinions presented as predictions? With so many people, born
during this time period, it isn’t surprising that I found one that may be
correct.
Coded with five stars, it says:
Your ability to see past the obvious could make a big difference.
Understand what is going on behind the scenes. Sometimes
observation takes on a bigger role and more significance than
asking question. Tonight: Let your mind wonder.
My next step is to see who is responsible for the comments – or are
they opinions presented as predictions? With so many people, born
during this time period, it isn’t surprising that I found one that may be
correct.
GOD WAS ALWAYS THERE, BUT I WAS TOO BUSY TO PAY ATTENTION - BIO OF MYSELF
Because the stories my sister and brother seem to remember about our relationships are so different from mine, they were like we never lived together. They do explain the depth of our personal, political, and emotional difference and are clear indications why it appears we are from entirely different backgrounds.
I was a pretty child, fussy about myself, scared of my shadow, but obedient. It appeared as if, even in those days my body talked to me. It told me what not to eat, something my mother never understood when the doctor told her it was doing, but she never gave up nagging me about food, and everything else.
My sister always criticized me but not until my father’s funeral, did I learn why. She believed my father liked me more than he did her. How sad and improbable, but too late to be repaired. Like all children, we both needed love. How we went about getting it
led us in entirely different life styles, both complicated and difficult to relate healthily to each other. We never succeeded. Try as I would, this problem lasted our entire lives.
My friends filled my requirements with like interests in serious reading, discussions, (not arguments, no matter whether you were a leftist or rightist), music, current events, and the world around us.
As a “taking care of details person,” I expanded even further in my interests when I met my future husband, a man so different from anyone I had ever known until then. He was a Military Intelligence Officer, had been divorced,with one daughter. After three meetings, we “subtly” realized we had fallen in love but did not reach the stage of being able to talk about it.
When he left for Europe to fulfill his responsibility as a GI, I doubted I would hear from him. My excitement was enormous when I received a letter from him, while he was still sailing on his trip to Europe, that said “When I return, if we both feel the same way, I will ask you to marry me.” He did. We were married as soon as he returned.
My simple life became so complicated, with unusual circumstances that it required the wisdom which I was not sure I had in order to make the correct chioces. As I look back now, I find it difficult to believe that I was capable of making them myself, and they turned out to be correct. Or was God helping, but was I too busy to realize it? Years later, as my life slowed down,and maturity well in place, I realized it was God’s hand in my life that helped me through my days of hard choices.
I was a pretty child, fussy about myself, scared of my shadow, but obedient. It appeared as if, even in those days my body talked to me. It told me what not to eat, something my mother never understood when the doctor told her it was doing, but she never gave up nagging me about food, and everything else.
My sister always criticized me but not until my father’s funeral, did I learn why. She believed my father liked me more than he did her. How sad and improbable, but too late to be repaired. Like all children, we both needed love. How we went about getting it
led us in entirely different life styles, both complicated and difficult to relate healthily to each other. We never succeeded. Try as I would, this problem lasted our entire lives.
My friends filled my requirements with like interests in serious reading, discussions, (not arguments, no matter whether you were a leftist or rightist), music, current events, and the world around us.
As a “taking care of details person,” I expanded even further in my interests when I met my future husband, a man so different from anyone I had ever known until then. He was a Military Intelligence Officer, had been divorced,with one daughter. After three meetings, we “subtly” realized we had fallen in love but did not reach the stage of being able to talk about it.
When he left for Europe to fulfill his responsibility as a GI, I doubted I would hear from him. My excitement was enormous when I received a letter from him, while he was still sailing on his trip to Europe, that said “When I return, if we both feel the same way, I will ask you to marry me.” He did. We were married as soon as he returned.
My simple life became so complicated, with unusual circumstances that it required the wisdom which I was not sure I had in order to make the correct chioces. As I look back now, I find it difficult to believe that I was capable of making them myself, and they turned out to be correct. Or was God helping, but was I too busy to realize it? Years later, as my life slowed down,and maturity well in place, I realized it was God’s hand in my life that helped me through my days of hard choices.
CONFLICT BASED ON BELIEFS
If one believes one is religious, and we all believe in only ONE GOD … how and why do we have so many different religions? Has GOD told us to do this? Or can it be those of us who have so many different motives who “believe” there aren’t so many different religions to convince ourselves that our beliefs are the only correct ones?
Can it be GOD? The obvious answer must be loud NO. We must be telling ourselves that what we believe must be correct? This is a dilemma that muddies our thinking. There must be some way to repair the damage this is doing to all our different personal religious beliefs. If this is so, when GOD...IF WE LISTENING TO HIM…must be telling all of us the same thing.
I wish I knew how to help us solve this problem. It does not add to what should be a positive experience for each of us. Not necessarily all of us believe the same thing, but each of us has a choice by which we can live productively, have positive relations with each other, and be able to listen to our differences, and discuss them rather than simply disagreeing. Or is that asking too much of ourselves?
Can it be GOD? The obvious answer must be loud NO. We must be telling ourselves that what we believe must be correct? This is a dilemma that muddies our thinking. There must be some way to repair the damage this is doing to all our different personal religious beliefs. If this is so, when GOD...IF WE LISTENING TO HIM…must be telling all of us the same thing.
I wish I knew how to help us solve this problem. It does not add to what should be a positive experience for each of us. Not necessarily all of us believe the same thing, but each of us has a choice by which we can live productively, have positive relations with each other, and be able to listen to our differences, and discuss them rather than simply disagreeing. Or is that asking too much of ourselves?
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