Lonely but Smiling Old Woman

I decided to commit to some of the madness today and buy some presents for Christmas. I had a list of people and by the side of their names I had written my feeble guess at what they might want, followed by question marks. Why is it so easy to buy something for my 16 year old niece and so difficult to buy something for my 21 year old nephew. For my own children, (they're not children any more, so we need another name. 'Grown up offspring' sounds odd and distancing), they just want money. 'Anything you see that you think you might buy for us, just put the same amount of money that you would have spent into an envelope and give it to us.' Oh well, if that's what they want...

In one shop I was debating with myself as to whether my sister-in -law, my brother's wife, who I really like, would want another necklace. It was lovely and the kind of thing she likes, but for a  third year running? As I dithered I became aware of someone standing quite near me. It was a woman in her, I think, seventies and she was thoroughly decked out for a winter's day; hat, scarf, gloves, furry coat. I looked directly into her eyes and she was smiling to an almost maniacal degree. She was carrying, with both hands, a white plastic washing basket, the likes of which Deirdre Barlow on Coronation Street is always clutching, except that in Deirdre's basket there is fake washing and in this basket was a large, white, fake dog, like a Dulux dog. As I said, it wasn't a real dog, but it might as well have been for all the affection she lavished on him. The elderly smiling woman asked me, 'Do you like him?' I said I did, I liked him very much and asked what his name was. 'Snowy, ' she said, with all the pride a new mother might feel, delighting in her newborn. 'He's lovely,' I said and she seemed thrilled. I stroked the dog for good measure and tried to continue my dithering. I couldn't escape yet. 'Do you want me to get you one? £3.99 from Chesterfield Market.' I turned down her kind offer.

I decided not to buy the necklace, and was slightly annoyed with myself  for considering giving the same gift to someone, three years running. I started to study soaps and cosmetics instead, but became mildly distracted by Snowy and his owner, in my peripheral vision. I was beginning to feel simultaneously irritated with her and sorry for her. I then began to feel annoyed with myself for not giving a few more minutes of my time to someone who was probably lonely. It feels too as if, at this time of year, the build up to Christmas, somebody's loneliness will be exacerbated as they see all the images of happy families coming together at Christmas. We are all, of course, bombarded with advertisements and made aware of how Christmas should be done, and all of us feel that we are falling short. It is especially difficult for women, who often are their own worst enemies, in that they think they have to replicate Heston, Delia or Nigella (maybe not Nigella just now) and put an inordinate amount of effort into the Christmas preparations.

So where does this leave the old woman and Snowy? I don't know, nor really do I want to know because it makes me feel uneasy and guilty. I have too much to do and can't take in every poor soul I meet.

Having at last escaped her, I saw that Snowy's owner was standing by the checkout, not in the queue, but by the side of the queue. Those people were looking directly ahead, ignoring Snowy in his washing basket kennel. Well of course they were - she's obviously nuts and noone has any time, because there are only twenty-four shopping days to Christmas.  

What have we become?  


     

Possessions are a burden?

I'm having a clear-out. I have way too much stuff and it is starting to get me down. Owning so much stuff slows you down, it creates too much choice, which in turn creates dithering and uncertainty and time spent wondering whether I should wear the blue, the black, the grey and so on. Then which shoes would be best and then which bag? There, that's it. I have far too many shoes and bags, some of which I don't much like now and some of the shoes aren't even comfortable. These days, I must have comfort. Tottering and teetering and dying to take the shoes off are aspects of life that I am more than happy to leave in the past.

So, I'm turning to eBay, which I  used quite a lot a few years ago. Come the day when I have sold them all, or got fed up and taken them to the charity shop, I hope I will feel relieved (as well as richer)  that I have got rid of a lot of stuff. Minimalists say how much freer they feel, having gone over to the minimalist side and I can well believe it.

Mahatma Ghandi, along with other philosophers, thought that possessions were binding and that people would live more satisfying lives without possessions.

Try telling that to the floods of people pouring into Meadowhall, Cheshire Oaks, the Trafford Centre, Brent Cross and all the other huge shopping malls, the retail temples where we worship. After all, what would we do if we can't shop? 

Cleaning and Tidying

 Well, it has to be done, but it depends how bothered you are, as to how often you do it. Cleaning, of course. What is fascinating about cleaning, is that people have such a variety of standards and attitudes towards it.

Several people I know have a very relaxed attitude towards cleaning. As you go into one friend's house, unabashedly, she tells you to be careful not to trip. This is because the hall is littered with rolls of carpet, a mop and bucket (both very dry) and several shallow cardboard boxes. The hall has been this way for several weeks. We go into her living room and though it does need cleaning, the more obvious need is to tidy it up. Despite the fact that the living room is large and there is furniture providing seven seats, none of them are free to sit on, because of all the clothes, thrown on every chair, waiting, it seems to be ironed, as the ironing board is up. In addition, newspaper is spread or rather strewn across the floor, plants are waiting to be planted and a huge bag of compost is spilling its contents mainly onto the newspaper, though it is also escaping onto the carpet.

My friend picked up a heap of washing, dropped it on the newspaper on the floor and asked me to sit down and what I would like to drink. She was pleasant, polite and effusive towards me - it was wholly evident that the mess concerned her not one bit.

Someone else I know has an immaculate house. It is clean, tidy and very minimalist. That said, it is soulless. She has a dog too, and the dog's area is so clean, that it would be hard to believe a dog lived there were it not for the fact that I could see the dog, right there in its very clean bed.  While I was there, my friend showed no tendency to clean, polish, scrub or mop but it was evident that she had engaged in much of this before my arrival, though not necessarily for my arrival.

Many years ago now, as a student, I shared a house with eight other young people. Some of us, three to be exact, were working class and the other six were middle class. Of course, nine people is hardly a sufficient number from which to draw a convincing conclusion, but we three were pretty good in terms of cleaning and tidying, whereas the other six were dreadful. Of course, at the time, I put this down to their privileged background and imagined that they might have servants.

In reality, I don't think that tidiness and cleanliness in a house is an accurate indicator of social class. Still, the way in which people look after their homes is fascinating, as is the way people prioritise their spending. In fact most aspects of how people live, is, to my mind, riveting.  
     

November 22 - a Significant Date

It's hard not to notice all the newspaper and television commentary on the subject of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. This week, on Friday, November 22, it will be fifty years since JFK's motorcade arrived in Dallas and when, minutes afterwards, he was assassinated.

It might sound odd, but I feel I have much to thank JFK for. The connection is this - JFK was diagnosed with Addison's Disease, which, if left untreated is a killer. Low blood pressure will lead to a coma and death.  It is rare and the symptoms are rather non-specific. They include, fatigue, nausea, vomiting, breathing difficulties, a general weakness and headaches. JFK was presenting with all these symptoms. Eventually it was diagnosed and JFK was treated using the steroid hydrocortisone. It did the trick.

Addison's disease is a rare chronic condition brought about by the failure of the adrenal glands. which are positioned on top of the kidneys. The adrenal glands are critical in creating numerous hormones. Treatment is lifelong with regular monitoring and health checks.

I have Addison's Disease. I was finally diagnosed in January 2005 and whisked into hospital. Six days later I was out and the symptoms, thanks to the steroid hydrocortisone, had disappeared.

A 'cure' was discovered thanks to JFK - the President of the USA had to be mended, hence the connection I feel. Were it not for him, there might still not be a cure for Addison's Disease and I would not be writing this.

There is still more to say about November 22nd. In 1990, on that day, Margaret Thatcher resigned. Had I been able to, I would have jumped up and down. But I was giving birth on that day and at ten past one my third child, Daniel, was born - a post Thatcher baby.

 

My Brother

He's called David, my brother, and he is 62 years old. The sibling relationship fascinates me so much more than romantic relationships. When you're young, relationships, or those 'together for a few days' things are so ephemeral, whereas a sibling is always there and if you're fortunate enough to get on, not just see each other at Christmas, funerals and weddings, there's probably no other relationship which is so easy.

Another aspect of the sibling relationship is that although you've been brought up by the same parents, some siblings could not be more different. That is the case with my brother and me. The difference between us, especially when we were children, were stark. I was loud, talkative, volatile, whereas my brother was shy, quiet and and easy-going. Although we have veered towards each other's characteristics to some extent, generally we are still the same.

Perhaps he took a little longer than most to find his niche in life, in as far as any of us find our niche. Once found, he excelled. He is a foster father and a superb one. He and his wife began in 2002 and they now teach others about foster caring, as well as continuing to foster themselves. At the moment they have three Slovakian Romany children, aged 9,12 and 13. In total they have fostered twenty children.

You can, if you choose, foster in a kind of 'hands off' way; not my brother and his wife. They really do act as parents. They take the children to places, supervise homework, insist they eat healthily and get enough sleep.

People like my brother and his wife so often go unrecognised which is why I am going to nominate him and my sister-in -law for an OBE. Watch out for them.  

 

Tammi Terrell

I wrote about one of the two of my favourite singers a few days ago, Joni Mitchell, and now it's the turn of Tammi Terrell. Between these two, I don't have a preference.They are very different women and very different singers, but they are contemporaries; Joni was born in November 1943 and Tammi in April 1945. I don't know if they knew each other, but I like to imagine that even if they did not know each other, they would have admired each other's music, their vocals in particular.

Thomasina Winifred Montgomery began performing at an early age; she was a natural on stage. James Brown, the godfather of soul, noticed her and asked her to join his band. She did join but not for long; not because she lacked the talent, but because James Brown became infatuated by Tammi and an affair began, again, not for long. Rumours abounded that James was physically abusing Tammi and her parents came to bring her home.

Soon after, Berry Gordy, the legendary creator of Motown, spotted Thomasina Montgomery performing. He decided straightaway that he would like this charismatic young woman, with a strong and soulful vocal to join the Motown stable. He insisted that she change her name and so she became Tammi Terrell. On joining, Berry's masterstroke was to put Tammi with the prince of Motown, Marvin Gaye, and for them to duet together. It worked. In fact it was magical. Their voices wrapped around each other and their performances were electric; they were more than a man and a woman duetting; they produced live theatre and audiences would believe that they were actually in love.Subtle touches such as Tammi saying,'Hey Marvin' and Marvin saying, 'Talk to me Tammi' succeeded in creating the belief that this was a love affair. Both strenuously denied that this was the case. Marvin was married to Anna Gordy and Tammi was madly in love with David Ruffin, the lead singer of The Temptations.

Their first hit was Ain't No Mountain High Enough followed by Your Precious Love. The duet was riding a wave of success.

But it would be very soon cut short as Tammi collapsed into Marvin's arms on  stage, while performing Your Precious Love. Tammi had been complaining of severe headaches. Very soon after her collapse the headaches were explained. Tammi had a brain tumour. She was twenty-one years old. Eight operations followed, Tammi believing each time that this time, she would be cured. It was not to be and Tammi died in March 1970, one month short of her twenty-fifth birthday.

It is almost too heartrendingly poignant to consider just how successful, this hugely talented singer would have been if she had not lost her life at such young age.  

Joni Mitchell and Tammi Terrell

My two most loved female singers are Joni Mitchell and Tammi Terrell. I'm going to deal with Joni today and Tammi another day.

Joni Mitchell first came to my notice when I was at university in Manchester doing a joint degree in English and French. At first I wasn't keen on her; her voice was very high and a little bit whiny at times. Another reason was that the boy I was with at that time thought she was wonderful and beautiful. Overcoming my jealousy, I decided to give her a good hearing. I was enraptured. The nuances of that voice I had once thought whiny, the range of her vocals and her superb lyrics, that noone, not even Bob Dylan had previously created, were evidence of a musical genius.

Blue, Court and Spark, For the Roses, Hejira, The Hissing of Summer Lawns - I listened to them all with a mixed sense of disbelief and adoration. There wasn't only me adoring Joni, many men were entranced by her including Leonard Cohen, Graham Nash, David Crosby, James Taylor and others.

At the age of 19 she lost her virginity and became pregnant, She did her best to protect her parents from the dreadful scandal, as it was regarded at the time. She was their only child too. Joni gave up her daughter for adoption but in the late nineties she made it public that she wanted to find her daughter. She did find her, Kilaurin Gibb, and for a while the two were happily reunited. But only for a while sadly.

Joni lives alone now, saying she prefers it that way. She will be 70 years old on November 7th, and by that time she will have been smoking for 61 years. She began at age 9 when she became ill with polio. Incredible - and even now, unapologetically, she smokes like a chimney.

You would think that Joni Mitchell would be a feminist, but interestingly she declares herself not to be a feminist. She becomes very exercised by the label and disassociates herself from it wholeheartedly. The reason she gives is that feminists don't like men and they wish to separate themselves from the male of the species. Well, not quite Joni; maybe the radical, lesbian, separatist feminists do, but not the vast majority of feminists. Anyway, who cares that she may be a bit eccentric on this, when she can write lyrics such as - 'I met a woman, she had a mouth like yours, she knew your life, she knew your devils and your deeds.'  What better way to describe the mother of the man she loves. Genius.