The death of both my parents has inextricably shaped me. First by the unexpected death of my father when he was 51 and I was 15, and then by my mother whose death was long and painful when she was 77 and I was 45. I've been a part of both sides of the equation and neither of them are good. I absolutely hate that their deaths twist and turn me into a person who can't be rational at times. But, that is the way it is. And, in a way, I feel that that is why I have started feeling so passionately about certain things. And, probably because I'm a snake in the Chinese horoscope and a Sagittarius in the more traditional horoscope, I have let my very definite ISFJ Meyers-Briggs personality rear its emotional head more often than not.
Today, started out as a challenge before I ever got out of bed. I needed to transport five indoor/outdoor cats to the my clinic to board while we are on vacation. No cat carrier could ever house any of these streetsmart felines. It's grab and go. My biggest concern was capturing Squiggy, earstwhile brother of Lenny, who shares his time between our house and an across-the-street neighbor who feeds him very well and wears a very distinctive cologne. Last weekend I subjected Squiggy to some needed grooming which he did not enjoy, so I was worried that he would be MIA for a while. Luckily, because my husband and dogs can't sleep in on MY day-off, I was up early enough to see him patiently waiting for food that he had already decided to snub. I appeared calm and pretended that I had his best meal ever before I snagged him and brought him inside so I could corral the other cats. The end of this story is that all five cats miraculously made it to the clinic in one trip. I am only slightly scarred from the drive and they entertained fellow travelers with their prowling in a moving car.
The next obstacle was making sure that the mounds of records I hadn't signed off on were complete before going on vacation. In this "pile" are so many emotions that don't translate into a medical record. Not only have I euthanized several of my most favorite patients recently, there are two who are soon ending their days with us. Bottom line is I managed to get all of this done in time to get home and head downtown to our local bookstore where a friend was promoting her book.
So, this is where today's mess comes in. When Kristen announced her book publishing I was ecstatic because she was writing about the history of our hometown where public schools were closed to keep black children from being educated. It is a a horrific chapter of history. I have struggled with that legacy for a very long time. In my mind, she was writing my story. Only, she didn't. She does an excellent job of recounting history because she is an accomplished reporter. My story is about the children who had no say in where they went to school who grew up and didn't continue the thinking and bigotry that kept black children from being educated. My story is about that community grappling in a very real and honest way that few communites today attempt. My story is about here and now and moving beyond the pain. And, it is very personal to me.
Suffice it to say, I am disappointed. Last night, Kristen and I had a "conversation." She said that nice people didn't matter and that if one person would have stood up that could have made all the difference. Yes, it could have. But, apparently that didn't happen. Move ahead. I hope I am nice and I am standing up now to defend the goodness of the people who raised me, and it was a village of people. I am not in anyway defending what happened or dismissing the horrible atrocites of families who were torn apart by this period of time. I will never do that, but at some point we need to start looking ahead instead of behind.
