Shortly before 5:00 AM and here I am. But I awakened a few minutes after 4:00 with what I guess I’ll term a “personalized dramatization”. You see, I recently read how at least some of the land wrestled away from Native American Indians was used. In order to be allotted to our “citizens”, the lands had to be surveyed and divided up. This took several years. Maps of the divided lands were drawn on small cards. At publicized events these cards, along with some blank ones, were put into a wire cage. Then people were allowed to draw, in hopes of a card showing the property lines of land that would then be theirs. One draw was granted to every white male. Married men and widows with children received two free draws. And extra chances were given to Revolutionary War veterans who had distinction of some kind. Sound fair? Someone comes, and in one way or another, you are moved from your land so it can be given to others?
Well, I must have had that on my mind. On waking, I immediately began to think about what if that could happen to us, right now in 2011? The sense of loss would vary from family to family, I think, depending on the family’s stage of life and what events of life have “taken place” in what they call home. That home, of whatever type, and the property on which that home sits can have emotional attachments you need. Maybe it will make sense if I share the “personalized dramatization”.
I like the location of our house a lot. We’re on a cul-de-sac a good ways away from any main road. There are plenty of tall pines. We have no streetlights, which is actually one of my favorite things. The night sounds can be heard so easily. Somehow I find them reassuring. And there are no obstructions to the night sky. The back offers relatively complete privacy. There is a creek and plenty of vegetation that makes for a restful and peaceful spot. At times a large heron visits and stands in the water’s middle. We have seen a red fox across the creek taking on nap on a sunny Saturday morning. Squirrels seem to have a lot of fun playing tag up and down the trees. There are several different kinds of birds that visit. And often enough there are butterflies. When we first moved here a bird kept repeatedly hitting the kitchen window. We didn’t know if this had been its nesting place before the house was built or exactly why that bird would spend hours trying to fly through the window. We finally placed a little stuffed rabbit in the window trying to dissuade the bird so it wouldn’t hurt itself.
Last July we completed a kitchen remodeling. It was good therapy for the four of us. I guess you could say it ended up being like Art Therapy. We all had input in how to give me more preparation space and provide an area for guests to visit with me while I might be completing dinner preparations. But I wanted to be able to see outside the kitchen window to the back. I actually wanted to focus on that “picture”. My husband and son-in-law did all the work. Trista, my daughter, and I had final say on the design details, of course. But it really ended up being a pretty equally shared project. Not only is the kitchen great and I TOTALLY enjoy it, but it is attached to a family of four trying to handle the death of a child.
Right now Allan and Ale are building a screened in back porch, which will be on the opposite side of the kitchen from where we now have a small deck. Once we install a ceiling fan we will be able to spend time outside in the fresh air on days when the heat index is just too high to think about middle of-the-day physical activity. I can sit outside on the deck and read for a few minutes in the afternoon most of the year. So I’m looking forward to being able to sit outside and read in the summer months too.
I like ground cover. Years ago my Dad gave me what I call myrtle, but I don’t think that is quite accurate. But, anyway, I have uprooted and moved that myrtle with me for the two moves since he gave it to me. I explained immediately to the realtor each time that it needed to be clearly understood that the myrtle would be dug up and going with me.
I tell you all of this to show what all a house can be. It can represent effort to survive the tragedies life may send. It can offer comfort and pleasant memories from the past or from a loved one now gone. It can be a symbol for the family unit. It can be a refuge.
Before I leave off the groundwork that I hope gives meaning to my point, let me add an even more powerful illustration. Let’s switch to Trista and Ale’s home. First there is Natalia’s room, designed by her Mommy and remodeled by her Daddy. But also there is “Natalia’s Garden”. When Natalia died people were calling and asking what they could do. No, “asking” is the wrong word. I would say it was more like they were “pleading” with me to tell them what they could do. The back yard was going to be used for her memorial service. (Whenever it might be that Trista could get out of bed, focus to plan the memorial, and get to the point where she could be around people, as opposed to not leaving the house except when absolutely necessary, and with the shades pulled or curtains drawn so as to cocoon herself as a way to survive.) Friends wanted to plant something for Natalia in the backyard. They did so and it mushroomed from there. Through these friends others sent monetary contributions specifically for what came to be called “Natalia’s Garden”. So much was given that a new beautiful new wooden privacy fence was installed, numerous new plants were purchased, stones added to make a path to the gazebo, and to Natalia’s special flowers. All the work was done by Allan, Ale, and friends who would show up and work all day. My sister sent a garden stone beautifully engraved with Natalia’s name. The backyard became the most wonderfully beautiful and peaceful haven. Since Natalia was cremated, it became the place to which Trista and Ale could retreat and could feel like they were close to her. And it became a visual representation of the concern and support lovingly offered by so many.
Okay, now back to the “what if”. Can you imagine, given what I’ve shared with you, what it would be like if right now a group of people forcibly took either our property and home away from us or Trista and Ale’s away from them? And sent us somewhere not of our choice? How could Natalia’s Garden be given to someone else by lottery? Or to someone else because of their political position of power? That’s exactly what happened to both our Native American Indians and to those of Jewish descent prior to World War II.
Actually feels different when put it in terms of ourselves and our families, doesn’t it? Maybe when we fail to experience something from a “what if” or “let me put myself in that position” way, it is like watching TV on an old black and white television. There’s far more static than picture. We simply can’t get the rabbit ears adjusted so the picture comes in even partially clear. It’s too much work and effort. It’s not worth the time. We give up; go on to whatever attracts our attention. BUT, when put in terms of a “personalized dramatization”, the static dissipates.
Wait a minute! A preferable term might be “Personal Reality Show”. That might relate better. And I do want the picture to be seen as if on a large, high-definition screen. So, make yourself and your family the reality show “stars”. Imagine that although you were hesitant to do the show, they made it worth your while, so you came to see it as a profitable way to spend some of your time. I think you’ll find it one reality show truly worth watching.
