Day 8: Other Mothers clothed but naked

Ann-Marie:

"There has to be another layer to breathe, a place to float away to forget." 

While some readers point to Duncan Miller's infidelity (revealed in Chapter 17 of The Other Mother: a rememoir) as a personal breaking point with his character, I'm standing at that same juncture, less rattled by the symptom of cheating, more frustrated at his inclination to escape as I can only imagine how much Byrne must of needed his support in a great many ways.  A caregiver will exhaust every resource emotionally and physically to offer the best hope they can to their loved one. She offered the best hope to their daughter in an era when mental health was far from understood and at the same time extended a graceful gesture to retain the love of a man she could not live without. I found myself  saying aloud "Wow, iron will" as I turned to the next chapter.

Jennifer Brewer over at Olives and Alzheimers provided a great quote in commenting this week on the blog tour Day 4 that seems to fit in this discussion: "Reinvention is a necessary part of being. It is the result of learning and growing, not a game to change the uniqueness of the person to a societal ideal. The 'ing' is important in the word being, living, growing, learning and reinventing. The 'ing' demonstrates that none of these are static, but always changing." 

Teresa:

Bryne Miller certainly took a creative approach to loving and living with mentally ill family members.  She had to. The first time schizophrenia pounced on her life ~ in the early years of her intense bohemian, artistic marriage ~ she did what women in the 40s were suppose to do. She sought out the best medial opinions and treatment centers for her toddler.  But that was back when the condition was blamed on women.  The doctors even had a term for it: schizophrenogenic mothers.  And they used a primitive form of electric shock therapy to "cure it."

Byrne rarely spoke of times she felt defeated or scared.  But one of them was watching her little Alison's head get prepped for shocking.  And it didn't work.  At least not in the way doctors told her it would.  So she set about re-calibrating Alison's brain herself ~ using whatever new techniques and intuition she could summon.  In the end, Alison led a difficult but mostly independent life.  I think one reason headstrong Bryne could let go was because she became the other mother to so many collected daughters.  We, collectively, fulfilled her dreams ~ following in her footsteps as dancers, writers, teachers, parents, and scholars.  Alison had the freedom to be the best woman she could be.

I don't want to give away a major plot line in "The Other Mother: a rememoir" but schizophrenia struck again in Bryne's life. And the second time, she didn't do what anyone expected. She created an alternative universe to protect those she loved ~ madness simply part of its cosmic makeup. It was beyond kind or compassionate ~ to me it was the greatest act of love. I know it wouldn't work for every family living with mental illness. My beloved uncle's battle with schizophrenia meant life-long medication and periods of institutionalization that have robbed him of a career and family of his own.  But I understand why Bryne fought this intrusion and I feel privileged to have witnessed a grand experiment.  It's how I know that there can be a love so powerful it creates its own truth.

The Other Mother: A Rememoir by Teresa Bruce

Tell us about choices that were hard but created possibility...

Attaching a Tradition in Different Ways

I recently reminded a friend that the individuals and occasions we consider holiest to holidays must at times shift their emphasis from some past rendition to a currently relevant condition. 

Thanksgiving has as much a certainly historic point of view for those of us in the United States as it does a familial focus.  For me, the holiday is those things, but also a symbolic calendar notation of when my family tree grew to create me.  My parents were married on Thanksgiving Day some fifty odd years ago and no matter where I find myself in life, my thoughts turn to my parents and their union this particular day.  A day when two families gathered to celebrate a union, but also to enjoy a very large traditional holiday meal. Obviously I was not there, but there are photos capturing the essence of what transpired, just as all wedding photography tends to do in making a moment linger into perpetuity. 

Some years we were able to celebrate this Thanksgiving/ Anniversary together as a family, some years we were not.   The later more true after my mother passed away. If I was honest with myself we'd not found a way to reconfigure ourselves as a family successfully after my sister died just ten years prior. So in some ways the familial Anniversary/Thanksgiving I cling to so reverently is but a fading memory of what I wished it to be, the original two plus their offspring, under different circumstances and all in good health. 

However sad that may sound it actually has provided a leaping point to establish new  traditions over the years that incorporate many outside the familial bloodline.  Thanksgiving is more about friendships and the family-like structure they provide when your own is disconnected or deconstructed.  David Brooks, New York Times Op-Ed columnist expressed it best in a recent column The Age of Possibility, "We are inevitably entering a world in which more people search for different ways to attach." I would add to Mr. Brooks well crafted words, that attachment may for some not come from a mind set of keeping their options open, but from a strong desire to resemble what they hold dear.

So I gathered with friends at Thanksgiving with my cranberry sauce contributions: 1) Mingled (cutie oranges, blueberries, craisins~dried cranberries, Agave syrup, Cointreau and cardamon); 2 & 3) Homemade berry relish and jellied (prepared from a grocer fresh berry bag, mashed and strained); as well as 4) Ocean Spray's canned.  A single Thanksgiving side dish prepared in multiple ways intended to appeal to an assortment of personal desires.  In other words, multiple options to attain that singular cranberry sensation.  

Thankful for attaching in meaningful ways.

Blending together rather than in

The holidays make it ever more evident that time has moved forward. Past the awareness that Santa was watching you while you mentally counted your lumps of coal, past the time when opening a present before Christmas was forbidden, past the heartache of family members no longer sharing the time in physical presence with you, past the years when some food products were store bought because you burned what was to originally be served...past so many memories, but memories not forgotten. To be here in the "now" part of living makes the planning, preparation and delivery of a blended "family and friends" affair during the holidays an affair to remember on so many levels.  First it's the initial act of urging everyone to gather, foregoing or bringing their respective traditions and activities to a location either central to travel or neutral in origin.  (Sidebar: When one lives in a warmer temperature than most everyone invited there's a greater likelihood of success). Then its the continual assurance that everyone will find the activity enjoyable, that they won't go hungry and that it truly is a season to be merry. Next it's actually doing it, the blended gathering, even if only 4 people on one side of the family show up (or 10 guests  beyond your original headcount of 10 appear at your door step) and repeat the event year after year.  What comes with the experience is recognizing that most people in general will show up for the food component of whatever  you plan.  That has become my most favorite part of blending, from the initial requests for food items, what we call Operation Name Your Holiday Food~those that desire a dish, but have no intention of ever cooking it get the opportunity to list an item, those that have their traditional favorites simply list it and commit to making it, and those who want to try something new in a hospitable environment give it a whirl.  I made a point this year to blend several traditional offerings (All of my dad's favs: cornbread stuffing, Italian green beans, egg nog~super sweet and spiked varieties, ham) with some unique side dishes (I for one relish the hospitable part of the occasion where even a flopped dish gets recognition for the attempt). I'm blending together a couple flavor favorites myself with one particular dish this year, Black-eyed Pea Salad with Tomato and Pineapple. The recipe hales from Elizabeth and Alexis Terry's Savannah Seasons cookbook, the recipe link is an archive from a local publication Savannah Now. The delightful blend of flavors in this side dish will go nicely with many of the holiday entree choices this year (Stuffed Turkey Leg, Pecan Pork, Brisket, Salmon Fish Fingers).  It's not about blending in, it's about blending together a great many people, aromas, flavors in a spirited occasion set yet to transpire but eagerly anticipated for the memorable moments to unfold.

Simply clockwork shrimp for the beach

While some families traverse to the beach the same week every single summer, our family had an annual menu of meals that were produced on specific days of the week during our week at the beach (whatever week we happened to land on the beach, some years it was early in the season, other years late in the season). My mother was not an expansive cook. In fact, she seriously only mastered about nine main courses during her lifetime, two of which were made in a crock pot. Of the nine, there was one dish that my mother reserved for the beach experience and only for the beach experience. That dish was Shrimp Jambalaya and it was always served on Day #2 at the beach. I honestly haven't made this dish since my mother's death in 2001, but somehow the universe for all her glorious works seems to know how to kick something back into mainstream life without too much fanfare (and much to my delight). This year, when the reconstituted version of my family gathered at the beach, my pseudo sister Linda (a family dynamic too complicated to explain here)and I each brought recipes from our personal collections to have and prepare on demand. Thus, it was more than fitting this year that Linda brings a recipe for a one pan dish she calls Savannah Shrimp (pictured here). The dish is simply, fresh from the dock sauteed shrimp seasoned with Old Bay accompanied by sauteed Vidalia onion, chopped and cooked creamer potatoes, newly picked field peas, fresh corn off the cob and diced vine ripe tomatoes. Like clockwork this simple dish brought back a treasured favorite albeit a revision of my mother's shrimp dish, but all the same it was served on Day #2 at the beach and will be from this point forward fittingly. Life's better at the beach with shrimp back on the menu.