What a year ...

I mentioned earlier that this has been an eventful year.  Unfortunately, eventful has also meant stressful and we - Jim and I - are both experiencing a really bad year.  We've had things happen that affect both of us, and it's easily the hardest year we've had in the 30-plus years we've been married.

It's not just the sale of our house and the move to a different kind of house in a totally different kind of neighbourhood (although the move is a whole story in itself - let's just say we chose poorly when we chose our mover); it goes way beyond that.  It's about potential job loss - twice.  It's about health scares.  And mostly it's about health scares becoming reality.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on the same day our house deal went through.  On a day when I should have been happy, I was in tears because I'd just read a report that said I had breast cancer.  Somehow, a step got missed and instead of my doctor telling me I had cancer, I received a phone call from my doctor's office that I had an appointment with a surgeon the next day, and would I please pick up the CD with all the test results and take it with me.  It was in the packet with the CD that I found the report that said I had cancer.   

That was back in May, and since then I've had surgery and have started treatment.  Boy, have I learned a lot in the few months since I was diagnosed.  And what I've learned is mostly what I'll be talking about in subsequent posts.  

But it won't all be about the cancer and treatment, though - it can never be all about the cancer.  My life cannot be all about cancer, although right now it takes up a lot of my time and energy.  One of the things I  have learned is that having cancer is, at times, almost a full time job - there's not much room for anything else.  But I have to make room for other things and think about other things because another thing I've learned is that once I start thinking about cancer too much, the fear takes over and cancer is all I think about.  I can't let that happen. 

So here begins the conversation I never thought I would have.

I hate HGTV

This spring we finally got busy and listed our house for sale. It’s something we’ve been talking about and working toward for a couple of years now, and we just reached the point where it was time.

What an experience. It was, at best, disappointing; at worst – horrible. Part of it was our choice of real estate agent, part was being the owners of a 50-55 year old house with all its quirks and shortcomings and the rest was entirely attributable to the HGTV effect.

On HGTV, there are two kinds of properties – those which have been renovated and those which require renovation. There is nothing in between. There’s no room for a home that needs a bit of updating but is entirely liveable, attractive and homey. It automatically falls under the “requires renovation” category.

Many real estate salespeople and home buyers have bought into the HGTV assessment of properties. It’s crazy. A new, attractive laminate countertop must be replaced because it is not granite. The new sink and stylish faucet will be replaced because a new countertop deserves a new sink and faucet. Kitchen lighting must be replaced because the fixtures aren’t pot lights. And the pot lights that are there must be replaced because they aren’t *new* pot lights. The house must be repainted despite the fact that it was repainted in the recommended popular colours less than a year ago because … well, just because. And on it goes …

One side of the HGTV coin is that everyone wants entirely renovated and “move in ready” condition. But it’s move in ready according to what HGTV tells them – nothing less or different will do. Granite countertops and stainless steel appliances only – nothing else is allowed. Hardwood flooring throughout – can’t have laminate.

The other side of the HGTV coin is that if there’s work to be done, real estate agents and buyers consider the property should be had at bargain basement prices because they “have” to renovate. Well …actually… it’s rare that people *have* to renovate. The house may not be tarted up exactly the way they’d like it to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s a dump in need of an overhaul. Newsflash, folks … just because you *want* to renovate doesn’t mean the house is in need of renovation. You don’t get a big discount because it’s not up to HGTV standards.

Don’t get me wrong. I love house hunting shows and home renovation shows and all that stuff on HGTV. They are fun to watch, but they are not real life. They are entertainment. They are staged and well edited to show drama to make them interesting to watch. They should not be taken so seriously or accepted as gospel.

Just think about it … if everyone used their own judgement about what made a house liveable for them instead of ticking off the boxes on the list of HGTV-approved features, our living spaces would be a whole lot more interesting and representative of who we are instead of reflecting what’s fashionable at the moment. Sort of what it was like before we started watching designers and contractors tell us how we should live.

I'm baaaack

Wow - it's been about a year since I last posted.  Time has passed so quickly.

This has been a pretty eventful year for us, and now it's time to start the conversation again.  

Launching

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of attending a university graduation ceremony.  It wasn’t just any old graduation ceremony – it was the one in which my son received his undergraduate degree.  Finally, after years of study and undergoing a change of direction, he was able to walk across the stage and receive that bit of paper that says he accomplished his goal.  It was a pretty proud moment for Jim and me.   

Just a few observations, if you don’t mind. 

There were over 600 graduating students in The Kid’s ceremony – some undergrads, some graduate students and a few PhDs – and it took a long time for them all to file in and find their seats. 

The procession started out much as you’d expect – gowned young men and women following the person in front, watching to see which seat was theirs.  

Then there was that one young woman who walked in, talking on her phone the entire time.  And then more students walked in, talking on their phones during this formal procession of graduates.  It seemed so odd to me that they couldn’t talk before the ceremony started or wait until it was over.  Apparently, it’s unreasonable to expect that phones will be put away for the ten or 15 minutes it took to get them all to their seats.  

The phones didn’t go away at any time during the graduation ceremony:  a surprising number of students took selfies when they were shaking the hand of the university president.  Many of them texted during the ceremony (and my boy was right in there with the best of them – but I’m not complaining because I was texting him back.  He told me afterward that he was texting three different people.).  A young man below me was playing a game on his device. 

I suppose we all found ways to amuse ourselves during boring speeches and long ceremonies back before cell phones were even an idea.  We probably fidgeted and looked around and jabbed our neighbour and tried not to snicker too loudly.  Maybe the smart phones are a good idea – at least they can be quieter than all the shuffling about and snickering. 

 

The most interesting thing to me – and what I found to be touching - was the number of students who, once they found their seats, turned around to the audience to find their families.  Once they found them, they waved, huge grins spread across their faces.   It reminded me of church Christmas pageants, when little kids troop on stage and, no matter what they were supposed to be doing, search the audience for their parents and grin and wave.   

Yes, these were young men and women being officially launched into the world, but at heart, they are still their parent’s children, looking to make sure their parents are watching.  It was pretty sweet.

A matter of perspective

Lately I’ve been watching re-runs of the Mary Tyler Moore show.  I loved that show.  It was the story of Mary Richards, the 30-something single woman who had a life despite being single.  She was a career woman.  She had friends.  She had dates.  She had a great wardrobe.  She was who I wanted to be. 

My roommate and I would make sure we were home every Thursday night to watch Mary and her friends.  We ate dinner in the living room and watched a new show and a re-run and then, after the show wound up, re-runs.  I don’t think we missed a Thursday night while the show was on.  

From my early-20-something point of view, Mary worked with old people.  Lou Grant had to have been in his mid-to-late 50s, Murray Slaughter in his late 40s and Ted Baxter in his late 50s or early 60s.  It made sense – they were experienced, long-time employees of WJM-TV, while Mary was the relative new kid on the block.  

Except they weren’t.  Old, that is.  Ed Asner was only 41 when he started with the show in 1970; Gavin McLeod was 39 and Ted Knight 47.  Wow.  They seemed so much older. 

Fast forward to 2014. 

I was grocery shopping the other day.  As soon as I drove into the parking lot, I noticed it was senior’s day and the parking lot was packed.  Why did they all have to leave their grocery shopping til 5 o’clock when working people were trying to pick up a few things for dinner?  

I found my few things and went to the checkout.  I glanced at the screen on the register and noted a subtotal of $34 and then a red, bracketed number - $3.40, or the 10% discount that seniors receive.  I was shocked. 

The young woman at the checkout thought I was a senior.  Me.  I’m only in my late 50’s (I’ve had to move that number up from the mid-50’s after my last birthday) and don’t qualify for the discount.  Yet, she looked at me – probably older than her parents (maybe the same age as her grandmother?), a little wrinkled around the eyes, silver white hair  - and automatically assumed that I was one more old lady shopping on senior’s day, at a time when working people should be shopping for their dinner.  

Knowing how I judged ages when I was younger, I can see how that young woman came to the conclusion she did.  That doesn't make it feel any better, though.

How do you explain love?

Valentine’s Day was just a few days ago.  I was informed by my Australian friend (and had it confirmed by a friend in Britain) that it is very much a North American holiday and I believe them – the greeting card companies and floral industry have done a very good marketing job here and we have bought into the whole hearts and flowers thing.  Well, most people – Jim and I have done very little to acknowledge Valentine’s Day over the years – I think the most we’ve ever done is make a nice meal, give each other cards and say “I love you”.  After almost-30 years of marriage, is anything else needed?  We didn’t even do the cards and nice meal this year – we left it at “I love you”.  

 

Some time ago, a friend asked me why I loved Jim.  When she first asked, I thought it was a no-brainer; she knows and likes Jim and so knows his good qualities.  When I tried to respond, though, I was at a loss for words.   I stammered out something about his sense of humour and his kindness and ….his sense of humour … and his kindness …and … I could not say why I loved him.  I know I do but could not say why.  I felt rather foolish.

I don’t think I’m telling tales out of school to say that my friend has a complex relationship with her husband.  In comparison, I have occasionally felt that Jim’s and my marriage is almost too easy – and maybe too easy means a little shallow?  That’s ridiculous, of course, because every marriage has its own story and context and cannot be compared to any other.  Yet, when asked to explain why I loved Jim and being unable to do so – well, it left me wondering.

Several months after this exchange, I heard a speaker at a conference talk about consumers’ buy-in to various products and how they appeal to people.  He compared rational responses to products – they are useful, user-friendly, the right size, etc. – to the emotional appeal they have, and noted no one can adequately explain why they are emotionally attached to a product.  And he extended that to relationships and finally I had the reason why I couldn’t articulate my emotions.

According to the speaker, the part of our brain that deals with rational things like decisions and problem solving and learning is also the part of the brain that processes language.  We can use language to express what we are thinking and reasoning.  The part of the brain that processes emotion and emotional responses, however, does not process language, and so we cannot use language to describe emotion. 

I’m sure that’s overly-simplified (and let’s face it, my middle-aged brain only remembers so much these days) but his presentation made me feel so much less foolish about my inability to express a simple sentiment.   

So next time someone asks you why you love your significant other – or even your child or best friend - it may help to remember that you can’t explain love.  And maybe that’s what makes it so wonderful.

 

A happy winter memory?

It’s the first week of February and the middle of winter – and what a winter it is.  Anyone who loves crunching snow and cold would love it here.  We’ve had enough snow that it’s getting hard to find a place to put it when we’re shoveling the driveway.  And I understand it’s not over yet – reports from Environment Canada suggest there’s much more of the white stuff headed our way in the near future.

 

Strangely, I’m not turning this into a complaint about the winter.  As much as I dislike cold weather and snow and ice (anywhere except in my drink), I’m actually finding some enjoyment in the winter precisely because it is so cold.  The cold brings the light, fluffy snow that turns into the dry, crunching-underfoot snow I remember from my childhood.  You don’t get that when the temperatures hover nearer the freezing mark.  

 

Ah, childhood memories of winter.  I do find it a bit odd to be looking back fondly on winters in Manitoba – I don’t recall actually liking them as a child.  My mother would send us outside to play and I know I hated being out in the cold.  But there had to have been something that brings warm memories now … was it the snow forts we used to build?  The paths we’d shovel out to make a maze?  The group of kids we’d be playing with?  I have no idea – it’s all jumbled into that single memory of the sound of crunching snow that makes me feel good now…something that makes me smile.

 

These happy feelings about winter are today’s feelings.  Tomorrow … who knows – we’re supposed to get some more snow – enough to cover the ice on the roads and sidewalks and make it treacherous again for driving and walking.   I’d better enjoy this while I can.