Being Uncomfortable

I wrote this back in June of 2010. I feel that I have not grown much since then. I don't think about "being white" I just am. Which makes me sad. You'd think that during the past four years here at Smith I would have learned to "be uncomfortable" in my own skin. I'm afraid that isn't true.

Recently (9/22/2014) a Smith Alum at a NYC forum sponsored by Smith shoved her foot down her throat by usng the "n" word. Which basically folks is NOT acceptable in any form of discussion whether written or spoken. It has caused much discussion here at Smith which is good.

Until next time...stay well and happy.

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Recently I attended a three-day training to become a facilitator to lead intergroup dialogues planned in the fall at Smith. The issues that will be discussed are on gender, race/ethnicity and class.

I participated in the race/ethnicity group dialogue and I listened to people describe how being "a person of color" is something they have to deal with everyday. From inappropriate comments such as “Can I touch your head?” or “Does your mother speak English?” to people just being down right nasty. OMG! What planet are these rude folks from?

From the same planet that I live on and that is where the problem lies. My being “white” has never been an issue for me. But it should be. My being white does not give me a free pass to be unaware of what life is like for people of color.

One of the participants mentioned that “being comfortable” in one’s white skin should not be an option. That to “be uncomfortable” would be a way to grow and stretch one’s self. And I agree.

So stay tuned to find out how it feels for me to stretch my skin.

Holding a Spot

More Gifts from Annie

Yesterday was Annie’s service. It rained most of yesterday and during the service. Mary said that her Mother believed that when it rains at a funeral that it is “tears from heaven.” It definitely felt that way. I came early to get a spot and it was a good thing that I did. The place was packed! It was standing room only. Another testament to what an amazing woman Annie was.

The service was lovely. There were cut flowers from Annie’s garden. Ozzie’s parents from Istanbul both spoke while Ozzie translated. Even though Ozzie’s mother was speaking in her native tongue you could hear the anguish in her voice. Annie’s amazing 10-year old daughter spoke ”If you see me walking around and wondering why I’m not crying, it’s because she will always be with me, and she’s not gone, her love is in everyone of you.” I definitely see a potential Smithie in Zeytin!

The service ended with a recording of Annie singing a song she entitled “Sweet Dreams for Ozzie” which can be found out on YouTube. Once she finished singing there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

I experienced Annie’s presence in several ways yesterday. It all started in the morning. I decided to go to the Dog Park with Mary and our three dogs. I haven’t been to the park in well over a year due to health issues. I almost bowed out right before leaving but something told me to go. While we were there Mary and I met a lovely woman and her dog. This happens a lot at the park complete strangers will stop and chat. We had a lovely conversation and I was sad to see her go because there was something there and I knew I would never run into that woman again.

Wrong. Who do I see sitting two rows in front of me? Yes, it was her! After the service I went up to her and she was surprised to see me. I asked her how she knew Annie. She said they had worked together at Smith. I said I work there too! We then introduced ourselves and had a lovely chat. I hope I made a new friend yesterday and if I did - I have Annie to thank.

During the service someone mentioned that Annie loved getting coffee from Woodstar. Woodstar is a lovely coffee and bakery shop here in downtown Northampton. For me it is the only coffee shop in town where I can thoroughly enjoy a cup of good coffee. After the service I called Mary and said, “Meet me at Woodstar.” I explained I wanted to celebrate Annie’s life by toasting her even if it was with a large single-shot decaf latte! We clanked our cups and looked up into the heavens and wished her well.

We were sitting there and I was telling Mary all about the service. She stopped me and pointed to a figure behind me. It was Ozzie! He too came in Annie’s memory. We both hugged him. He thanked me for coming to the service. And, I mentioned that I had written a story called “Good-bye Annie” in my blog. Annie definitely had her hand in giving me more gifts to remember her by yesterday.

Thank you, Annie.

Good-bye Annie

Annie died Monday night, September 29, 2014, after losing her battle to ovarian cancer. She was only 41-years old, and the mother of a nine-year old and five-year old. She also left behind her husband of 22 years, Ozzie.

I knew Annie through Smith where she and I both worked. Also, I had met her husband, Ozzie, through a weekend job I held at a local Real Estate office where Ozzie was an agent. I never had the privilege to know her well or call her my friend. I first heard of her illness only a few months ago by a mutual friend.

Since then I have been following her through Facebook. I read an amazing interview she gave to Ayse Arman, a journalist from Istanbul. One of Ayse's questions to Annie was “How do you manage to be so strong?” Annie’s reply: “Do I have a choice? Maybe I won’t be alive in a couple of weeks. Actually, there is no maybe: I just won’t be alive. But I am alive today. And life is still beautiful, and so are my kids. One of them is 5, the other one is 9. I am trying to make the best of my last days with my kids and my husband Özgür. I’ve lived beautifully and I am dying beautifully. Hiding your head in the sand is not the solution. You have to face it, even if it’s death...”

“I’ve lived beautifully and I am dying beautifully.” What a statement. After reading this article I marveled at how accepting and together she was. She didn’t hide from the fact she was dying instead she gave death a run for its money. If I was told I was dying I’d either be yelling “why” or sucking my thumb in a corner. Not Annie.

She made videos, wrote letters and had quilts made for both of her children from clothing she had. She wrote a song for Ozzie. She planned a future for her family. What a brave wise woman.

Ayse also asked Annie if someone told you: “You have this much time left! What’s that like? What do people feel when they hear it?" Annie's reply: “Of course, it’s hard. It’s difficult to accept. However, I’ve always been an open person and I would want people to be open with me. I am a person who lives openly and I am dying openly. I wasn’t shocked. I didn’t experience a tantrum. I am not mourning. But I am sad. We are still so much in love with one another. I won’t be able to experience this love. I won’t be the mother of my children anymore (She cries). However, there is nothing else that I can do aside from accept it.”

Ayse's final question to Annie "Is there something called “dying beautifully?” Annie: There is, it’s me. 

She left a song she sung for Ozzie who found it after her death. Go out to YouTube and search for “Sweet Dreams for Ozzie.” One of these days when I’m down or blue I plan to listen to Annie sing it again. And, then I will pick myself up and march forward with my head held high. Thank you, Annie for giving me that gift.