Turning 50

 I’ve had a few people ask, “So, how are you feeling about turning 50?”

Nothing. Well maybe not nothing. But I’m not anxious about it. I’m not excited about it either. I’m content. I’m content that I have just finished a decade that included a whole lifetime of changes within ten years. And I’m content that I finished it on the positive side, healthy, happy and feeling like my authentic self. What I realized in the past decade was that there were all sorts of things out of my control but I needed to handle the things that were in my control in order to make my life what I wanted. 

More important than turning fifty, on June 11th, I get to say goodbye to my forties. I started my forties with a bang, a cancer diagnosis. I spent the first couple of years of my forties in surgery, in chemo, in radiation, on many trips to the James, recovering and thinking. So much time to think. It was long and scary but transformative. When you’ve faced true hardship (and death) in the eye, it’s startling, jolting. You can either crawl in a hole to hide or burst forth on a new path. I chose the latter. Sadly, my first marriage did not survive my forties. Thanks to all that time to think, I finally realized that you cannot love someone out of their self-destructive ways. I had tried for fifteen years. I also realized that even though you love someone, they can be toxic for your own life, and you have to cut them out for self-preservation. That was the hardest thing I have ever done, left someone I loved, who was in his own personal hell, in order to save myself. 

Then, midway through my forties, I forged ahead on my new path: transformation. I tried to be healthy. Thanks to a lot of extra time I was able to spend on myself, I created a routine for myself of exercise and healthy eating. My main goal was to be strong so that I could take care of myself. I also decided that I needed to overhaul the house I had been living in for sixteen years, so that she also could shine, and had my house (not completely, but many parts) renovated. And I decided that I could allow myself to have fun again. I reconnected with old friends and found new ones and we have had a gloriously fun time (until Covid . . . ) The last piece of the puzzle is that I found a new person to share my time. I found Jordan and he is just what I need. He is smart and sweet and always encourages me. He is funny and fun. We have a great time going out and trying new things and places together or just sitting on the couch watching tv. And most importantly, I can count on him. I am still surprised every time I ask him to do something and he actually does it, or even better, already anticipated it. (This is something I never had in my previous life). He is the best and he is a keeper. 

What do my fifties hold? I have absolutely no idea. But I do know that sometimes I will have to deal with hardship and sometimes I will have abundance. Yet, the most important thing that I have learned is not that you get to control what you are dealt in life, but that you do get to control how you react to it and how you are able to move on. I expect to keep moving on triumphantly through my fifties, no matter what happens. I will keep being kind to people. I will keep working on ticking off places on my bucket list. I will keep being a teacher for another decade (no more). And I will keep being content.  That’s more than enough for me. 

Unprecedented: Teaching in a Pandemic

 Once again this spring, I know a teacher who is leaving teaching — another great teacher is leaving teaching. It has become so common this year, I’m no longer surprised. And I can totally understand. For the first time in twenty-five years, I had that thought go through my own mind — what else can I do? I love teaching, but the past three years have been exhausting to be a teacher. I’m not sure non-teacher people understand why. We all went through the pandemic. We all had to adapt, right? But here’s the thing about teaching — it’s normally exhausting. It requires a large dose of different energies — physical energy throughout the daily teaching process, mental energy to plan and craft what to teach, reteach, and how to teach, and emotional energy to deal with all the young hearts and brains we encounter every day.

So, what is different now? Our energies are totally out of whack and totally spent. When the pandemic first hit, we had to completely change how we taught. For several months our mental energy was in overdrive trying to learn all sorts of new techniques and technologies so that we could reach our students. In year three, we are still learning and working on transforming our teaching to all these new ways so we can reach our students. Because of those changes, we are also physically doing twice the work, since we need to create lessons which are taught in person, as well as those taught online, if needed. And then there’s the emotional energy. If you are around any kids, you know that kids have been profoundly changed by the pandemic. They are broken. At the beginning of the pandemic, I wrongly thought that teenagers would be fine having school online since they spend so much time on there anyway. Nope. All the time alone, without real interaction or intervention, really hurt our kids emotionally. They are more immature and less able to cope with difficulties right now. And academically, they lost the knowledge of how to be students. They just won’t do assignments and don’t have the drive to succeed. I have never had to spend so much time coaxing so many students to just do normal assignments. Of course, the top students are still top students, but everyone else is flailing. Last week I had a student try to turn in an assignment from October. It’s currently the end of May. Our students are so different right now, teachers don’t even know how to help them. Our emotional energies are depleted too.

Today was the last day of school. My grading is complete, my classroom is clean, my school bag is ready to be put away for summer. I’m home on the couch, exhausted. I’m looking forward to recharging my batteries this summer by not doing much at all. I am not leaving teaching, but for those who are, best wishes in whatever you choose to do and thank you. I know you tried to do your best.

From Granville Street to Granville, Ohio: The Path Home

Have you ever seen the show Parks and Rec?  It is about people working in the fictional city government of Pawnee, Indiana.  Pawnee is not a great town.  It has lots of issues and urban decay.  The town, like its residents, is a bit down on its luck.  But, the heroine of the story, Leslie Knope, loves her hometown, despite its bad side.  This town has a snooty rival town as a neighbor, Eagleton.  In Eagleton, everyone is rich and everything is perfect.  And Leslie is always fighting for the reputation of her beloved hometown against the “evil” neighbors.  While not exactly the same, if you live near me, you might understand my metaphor: my hometown, Newark, is Pawnee.  The neighbor town to the west, Granville, is Eagleton.

As long as I lived in Newark, which was most of my life, there has always been a weird relationship between Newark and Granville.  It is a comparison of apples to oranges, but if you’re from around here, you know those differences, real or imagined.  Newark residents have always thought of Granvillans as snooty and rich.  And Granville residents have always looked down on Newark residents.  Granville is affluent.  Newark has a diversity of economics, including a lot of poverty.  Just five years ago, these differences were mimicked in the farmer’s markets of both towns: Newark farmer’s market was held in a scrubby vacant lot beside the McDonald’s, where you just might sprain your ankle falling in one of the enormous pot holes, whereas Granville’s was held in the beautiful brick streets of Olde Granville, with organic, vegan, boutique baked treats for dogs.  This comparison might be exaggerated, but I will tell you that recently my school (in Newark) got a water bottle filler installed next to a drinking fountain and what did my students sarcastically say?  “Oh, fancy! I feel like I’m in Granville now.”

Why does this all matter?  After around 40 years of living in Newark, I have moved to Granville.  My beloved lives in Granville and I now live there too.  However, my becoming a Granvillan is not without a bit of heart-wrenching.  For the past year or so, I have been introduced to other Granville residents and while I will admit that many of them are quite lovely people, I still feel some of the tension when I mention I am from Newark.  If someone asked where I lived, they expected me to say “the village” or which street. By saying Newark, I caught them off guard.  I could feel the judging of their eyes on me.  (And no, I really don’t think it was my imagination).  And conversely, when I mention to Newark friends that I now live in Granville, they just get a certain look on their faces, which I understand to mean – how can you live there?  I definitely have gotten some ribbing for living in Fancy-town.

Why wouldn’t I want to live in Granville? Granville is beautiful.  It has wonderful, tree-lined streets where people walk their dogs in front of stately old homes.  Neighbors have block parties (including mine).  The whole town comes out for solemn Memorial Day events and the Candlelight Walk.  The schools are top-notch and have some of the highest test scores in the state.  Granville is full of people who have realized the American Dream.  It is Americana in full bloom.  But it is not America.  The only way to get to live in Granville is through economics.  You simply must have enough money to live there.  I could not have lived there until now. 

I lived in Newark for most of my life and I was glad that I did.  Newark wasn’t special, but it was normal.  I grew up on Granville Street, close to downtown.  Oddly, I lived in an area of town with both mansions and very low-income housing.  My brother once remarked to me that we lived in a ghetto.  Well, not quite, I thought, but it certainly had its down sides.  At least I felt that by growing up in Newark, I had seen a broader, more realistic view of America than others had.  I saw the two sides: the haves and the have-nots of America. In Newark, I had people come to my door asking for money to get them through the rest of the week or to use the phone because they didn’t have one.  The house next to me burnt down because the people living in the attic apartment had their gas shut off and they were using space heaters to keep their kids warm.  That’s real life for a lot of people.  Some things about Newark aren’t pretty.  But . . . things are changing.

Newark has had a bit of a resurgence, thanks to some creative people with vision.  The downtown has become a place with busy restaurants and events.  The farmer’s market has been reborn as the shining star of the town with the Canal Market, which may just be nicer than what Granville has to offer in their farmer’s market.  Our schools have all been remodeled and updated.  Newark has a lot to offer.  As the Leslie Knope of Newark, I am very proud of my hometown.  Are there still problems?  Sure.  There are a lot of people still struggling with poverty, which may always be true of a town Newark’s size.  But, there definitely has been a change, a polishing up of the rough spots, drawing people to its beautiful, historic downtown and giving people a new dose of pride. 

So, what it is like to live in Grahnville now that I have lived in my new town for about eight months?   I will still have a soft spot for my Newark, but I feel good about what I am leaving behind.  And I am starting to like my new home more and more.  We live in downtown Granville, the village, so we are in walking distance to all the “hot spots,” of which there are many.  We walk to the farmer’s market on Saturday morning.  We easily access the bike path, which is just down the street.  And my neighbors? My neighbors are really lovely people.  This past winter, like my neighbors in Newark used to do, these Granville neighbors cleared our sidewalk and driveway on bad, snowy days.  They are kind and generous people, wanting the best for their families.  And Granville isn’t perfect.  It has its own gritty sides too.  But it has grown on me.  Who knew that growing up on Granville Street in Newark would eventually lead me to live here in Granville? I never would have guessed that would happen, but here I am where my heart has lead me, at home. 

Getting Married in Middle Age: The Merging of the Stuff

Earlier this spring at a doctor’s appointment:

Doctor:  So, do you have any summer plans?

Me:  Well, I’m getting married in the fall.

Doctor:  Oh, so you’ll have lots of wedding planning.

Me: Well, actually, this summer is about the stuff, the merging of the stuff . . .

When a young couple gets married, they, especially the bride, spend a lot of time planning their wedding, thinking of all sorts of meaningful, lovely details to make everything perfect.  For my first wedding, I spent the summer before making all sorts of things by hand – table decorations, intricate programs, struggled over wording for the invitations, etc.  The amount of time put into wedding plans is considerable. 

This fall, I am getting married to a wonderful man, the second marriage for both of us.  But now, we are middle aged.  We both have a few decades of adulthood under our belts, which means we also have a lot of stuff – emotional stuff, experiential stuff, family stuff, financial stuff and just stuff stuff.  Yes, we have also put some time and thought into our wedding details, but it is minimal.  I feel so much differently this time around.  Frankly, I would be very happy to just hire someone to take care of all the wedding details and then just show up for the party.

I am not worried about the wedding.  We have picked competent professionals to take care of the details and I’m sure that it will be wonderful.  It may not actually be perfect, but it will be special, lovely and meaningful to us.  We will have cherished family and friends with us to help us celebrate.  It will be awesome and I can’t wait. 

However, I am worried – about the stuff.  And when you have been through a few decades of adulthood, you know that it is silly to worry about the wedding, when all the other stuff is much more important to make the marriage itself work well. 

So, that’s what I/we are doing this summer.  We’re dealing with the stuff.   And we have a lot to work through.  How do our daily routines fit together?  How do we decide how to spend money?  How do we divide housework (and how much mess can you handle)? How do you interact with family and friends?  How much attention do you need from me?  How do I deal with the kids?! (First time step-mom!)  And the biggest part of the merge – the stuff stuff: How on God’s green Earth am I going to fit my whole house into your whole house? 

That task, of course, will take a lot of negotiation, individually and together.  I am in the thick of it now and even though it is pretty stressful, I do think it will work.  Thankfully, Jordan has been very reassuring about this process.  We both will keep some things, but we will both get rid of things too.  So, for me, I have really had to think hard about what furniture, what pictures, what kitchen gadgets and all the other stuff I really want to keep.  I have purged a lot.  During my spring break, I rented a dumpster in anticipation of the merge.  Going through old papers, pictures and memories  -- it is actually therapeutic, but also makes me realize that I have had certain mementos sitting in a closet for 15 years without looking at them.  So, it’s not too hard to part with them. 

Our wedding is in November -- that will be the completion of the merge.  We have been joking that instead of people giving us wedding gifts, we can set out stuff for people to take with them instead.  In lieu of a shower, my family suggested I have a yard sale.  The wedding itself will be a very special day, a day where we will make public promises to each other and celebrate our merge.  It is indeed very important, but it is just one day at the beginning of our new journey.  We will have more things to work out with each other from time to time, some more negotiations (that wallpaper for instance. . . ), but I know that we have gained some wisdom along the way in our lives and that we will be able to work through whatever new stuff we find along the way. 

The Cancer Diary 5 Years Later: 12/12/12 and the Satellite

I have always been a good rule follower.  I never park in handicapped parking spaces.  I renew my license and pay my bills on time.  I write my lesson plans on Sunday nights so that they are online Monday morning.  I grade my students’ papers promptly so that they can know their grades quickly.  I am reliable.  Unfortunately, not everything in life is that reliable and so I am easily shocked when things do not go as planned. 

I have had the biggest shock of my life.  I have breast cancer. 

Why is this a shock?  Because no close relative of mine has ever had breast cancer – I have to go back two generations to great aunts and a great-grandma .  Because I thought only large-chested women had breast cancer (um, not me).  Because since seventh grade, when my grandma died of diabetes related heart problems, I have only ever worried that I would have diabetes or heart disease.  Breast cancer?  This was far off my radar of things to worry about.  And so I did not. 

But I did turn 40 this past June.  I looked forward to it, much more than turning 30.  Turning 40, I was secure about myself.   I didn’t have to worry about what I haven’t done yet in my life.  I could be happy with what I have done.  However, when you have milestone birthdays, you do think about ticking off certain boxes.   One box for me was getting a mammogram.

 

I had thought about it in the previous few years.  My mom gets a mammogram every year on her birthday.  Friends who were starting to turn 40 were talking about getting mammograms.  Even my primary care doctor sent me an alarmist letter telling me to get one.  I wasn’t worried, but remember, I am a good rule follower.  If you are supposed to get a mammogram at 40, I was going to get one.

Luckily for me, I had a very easy way to get my first mammogram.  On election day, we have a professional day at school – no students.  For the last few years, our wellness committee had also planned a health fair for that day.  It included a mobile mammogram unit from the James Cancer Center.  I knew that I wanted to sign up for that mobile mammogram.  It was easy – I was already at school.

But then I got busy with other things and forgot to sign up for an appointment before the deadline.  Oh well, I thought, I can do it next year.  Luckily for me, someone else was looking out for me – a guardian angel maybe.  Two days before the health fair, we got an email telling us that if the mammogram unit didn’t have at least one more person, they wouldn’t come.  OK, I thought, someone is really telling me that I should get this mammogram.  So I called right away and got my appointment.

The first mammogram was pretty quick and easy.  The staff was nice.  It was uncomfortable but it didn’t really hurt like some say.     The technician explained the procedures to me and said that because this was my first mammogram, I may need a follow-up.  Follow-up procedures are common.  OK.

A couple of weeks later, I got a call from the James and from my gynecologist’s office.  I did need another mammogram and had a new appointment scheduled.  I started to have a sliver of negative thoughts peep through, but still I thought nothing was wrong.  Many others have follow-up procedures.

I went to my appointment with my mother to the Stephanie Spielman Comprehensive Breast Center.  I must say that this Center is a strikingly beautiful place with the friendliest staff I have ever observed.  The date was 12/12/12.  Many people were excited about that day since the numeric sequence will not occur in such an interesting fashion again in most lifetimes.  It was an interesting day, maybe a lucky day, definitely a life-changing day.

The first procedure I had done was another mammogram.   I walked in the room nervously but blissfully ignorant of my situation.  The technician had pictures of my previous mammogram lighted on a screen.  She explained to me what we were looking at and what kinds of mammograms we were going to do.  Wait.  I looked at the screen.  Is that abnormal, I asked?  The technician diplomatically gave me a non-answer and my face began to fall -- my first realization that something was indeed wrong.

My next procedure was an ultrasound -- the longest ultrasound in the history of man (at least what it seemed like to me).  They obviously were looking for something.   I was starting to understand.  Then a radiologist wanted to talk to me – and my mom.  That’s when I learned about the satellite.

My mom and I walked into a dark, small room with my now enormous breast lighted on a screen.  The doctor talked about calcifications, measurements in millimeters, and especially being worried about the satellite.  A satellite, a linked body nearby.  For some reason, that word stuck with me.  I like satellites – like the moon and satellites that circle the earth and tell us about space.  I don’t like this new satellite.  It means there’s something wrong. 

And there really was something wrong.  The next week, I ended up having a follow-up biopsy which showed that I have invasive ductal carcinoma – breast cancer, the most common type.  I didn’t need the biopsy to know I had cancer.  I could tell from the pictures of the mammograms and the ultrasounds that I had cancer.  I don’t have medical training, but I had a feeling.  I meet with a surgeon next week to discuss what will come next.   I’m not sure what that will mean exactly, but I have faith that the doctors, nurses and all the medical personnel will do their best to help me.

Maybe 12/12/12 was my lucky day after all.   It was the day that I found out about the satellite and my breast cancer.  There have been days since then that I have been very sad and scared, but on the whole, besides being a rule-follower, I am an optimist and I am thinking positively.  My cancer is very small, measured in millimeters instead of centimeters.  Because of developments in technology, they were able to find my cancer early, when I am young and I have a great chance of fighting it.  I am also blessed to have such a wonderful, top-notch cancer center so nearby.  If I need to fight cancer, I feel good going to such experts.  I am also blessed to have such caring family and friends who I know will help me along my journey.