No Bloopers and Not Really Poetry

I don't have any bloopers to write about.  One of the alternative topics for the day suggests poetry or other creative arts as an appropriate posting.  That's not me either; then I remembered haiku -- five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables.  I offer this and promise to visit the sites of other participants in D-Blog week to encourage and recognize them for their efforts so far.   

Consciously Choosing
To Encourage Those Who Need
Hope and Help Today

Dearest D,

Day 2 of D-blog Week asks that we write a letter -- and this is my letter to Diabetes itself:

Dear Diabetes:
Well, you finally got me. You've been stalking me for years while I have hidden from you, taunted you, resented you and downright hated you. You've caught my family, friends and now me. You tormented my mother and made her final years ones of pain and distress.
I hate when people say, "I am a diabetic".  While I may have you, I AM NOT YOU AND YOU ARE NOT ME. I refused to be defined by you. 
Now that I've got the anger out there, now what?  What do I do with you?  How I live with you since I apparently can't live without you? 
There is growing usage in business and in life of 'coaches' -- you know, personal trainers, gurus, executive coaches, life coaches, etc.  I'm not totally sure about reasons for this phenomenon.  Does it reflect the complexity of modern life?  The demise of large families where advice and counsel is readily available from people who know and love you?   A true desire for self-improvement or just narcissism?
I don't have a coach per se, but a former colleague of mine makes his living as an author, sports performance coach and professional speaker.    His name is Dr. Kevin Elko and you can link to his website from the links on this blog.  We talk periodically and I follow his work. 
Kevin's advice is always that one must live, not from circumstances, but from vision.  So, how do I live from vision, with you?  It has occurred to me that you are not all bad (did I really just write that?).  You have forced me to confront reality, to deal with numbers I would rather not even think about, to find more compassion for others and for myself.  You humble me, hold me accountable, make me think, and are leading me, kicking and screaming, into a lifestyle that is more about balance -- physical, mental and spiritual.  You have brought me closer to family members and a deeper understanding of my mother, whose struggle I have written about in other blog posts. 
Yes I hate having you, but you are making me better and my life's journey richer. 

Yours truly,
Rosanne

Jan, Nan and Rosanne

I am still in the toddler stage of my blogging career -- ranting, sometimes negative, questioning and not sure of the right way to put words together. I wanted to see who was out there blogging about diabetes, since my diagnosis with Type 2 was the impetus for the creation of this blog. I had no idea there were so many people  blogging about diabetes, until I searched  'diabetes blogs' on Google; and literally millions of hits came up.
Then coincidentally (which I really don't believe in; I think all things that happen are meant to be), I happened across the site for D-Blog week and signed up, before I even knew what the topics were. Then I checked out some of the others who signed up, including Nan of http://www.eatpraybolus.blogspot.com/ and Jan of http://www.bloodsweatcarbs.blogspot.com/.
Apparently, I am drawn to three-word blog titles that remind me of mine and to bloggers who use Google with names that also rhyme with mine. Then, when I looked at their blogs, they both turned out to be relatively new sites, just like mine.  Nan's blog header is, "stories of food, faith & family (oh, yeah...& diabetes!), kind of like my header.  Jan's blog header is, "Random thoughts and reflections about the 3 things I am most passionate about: Diabetes, Exercise, and Cooking, while raising a 10 year old son with Type 1 diabetes".So they are both moms with kids who have Type 1; I am in awe of these women who on a constant basis, are responsible for managing, coaching, encouraging a child with such a serious health condition.  Nan's description of the effort involved in preparation for her child's track meet gave me an insight into her reality that makes mine seem pretty easy to manage.  And Jan is a serious athlete, describing herself as someone who is, "extremely active and loves running, cycling, triathlon, and numerous other sports. In my spare time I also love to cook and promote the importance of a healthy, active lifestyle".   Her athletic event schedule is posted on her site and includes Cyclebetes, a relay from Vancouver to Calgary -- and I think I am doing well when I take a 30-minute walk every day. 
This post is a shout out to all the incredible moms of kids with Type 1.  Sometimes I blame myself for lifestyle choices that contributed to my diabetes.  That seems to me to be a big difference between me, Jan and Nan.   But just reading their blogs (and I hope to continue to follow them) is motivational and inspirational. 

Goodbye, Race for the Cure

For the last several Mothers Days, my cousin and I have attended the Race for the Cure in Pittsburgh. I have no plans to attend next year. The first year I was inspired. This year I have a level of disappointment that must reflect a change in me, because the Race seems pretty much the same. What has changed in me? Well, the event that triggered the creation of this blog, a diagnosis of diabetes. Today's Race for the Cure provided an opportunity to show support for my cousin, who is a survivor, but she, like me, has diabetes. At the Race, there is lots of commercial promotion tied to breast cancer awareness, involving megasponsors like Ford and New Balance. I get the marketing connection and the need of advertisers to connect with the female demographic. What I don't get is the prevalence of food that is at worst, bad and at best, inappropriate to be associated with this event. I thought, and I am by no means an expert, that our Western diet is known to contribute to lifestyle related diseases and certainly obesity, which is a risk factor for breast cancer. So does it seem weird to you that they were serving donuts, bagels, ice cream, custard and birthday cake at 9 o'clock this morning? Next year, I plan to Sleep-In for the Cure -- by the time I registered this year, the Sleep-In pillowcases were all gone. Maybe those people have the right idea: avoiding temptation for a good cause.

Grief, Yoga and Irish Wakes, Part 2

Going to a yoga class after Anne Mullaney's wake reminded me that I had done so the day of my mother's funeral in 2009.  This is the reflection I wrote:

My M(OM)

Since beginning a yoga practice over a year ago, I stand taller, breathe more consciously, and have gained in strength, balance and flexibility.  Then in June 2009, my mom died and yoga gave me something much more – a place and a way to grieve.     

Dementia had invaded her mind.  When she spoke it was as if the keyboard that spelled out words in her head had shifted, and out of her mouth came unintelligible syllables in a language only she understood.  She also had diabetes, osteoporosis and arthritis and was confined to bed.   She could barely move. 

My brother and I were with her when she died, in the nursing home where she spent the last 17 months of her life.  I got a call at work that her condition had deteriorated, and within five minutes of arriving, she died.  My brother Frank and I touched her forehead, told her we loved her and kissed her.  She took several labored breaths and then …stopped.

My rote response, when someone would express their sympathy or support, was:  “That’s OK, my mom was sick for a long time”.   Or, “I said my goodbyes to my mom years ago”.   Tears did not come easily because frankly, I was relieved that her suffering was over.

On the day of my mom’s funeral, after everyone went their separate ways, I took a yoga class.  I could not think of any other constructive way to cope or anything I would rather do.  A pregnant woman, apparently taking her first class, was two mats away.  Kris, the instructor, was particularly solicitous in adjusting her postures and assured her that they could be different after the baby was born.  Something about my awareness of her full body and impending motherhood and the intensity of the day’s events became overwhelming. 

During final relaxation, tears trickled from the corners of my eyes and fell to the mat.   

I got into yoga to benefit my health.  At first it was primarily an interest in my physical health.  Then it became more about mental and spiritual health.  One of the more disconcerting (to me, anyway) aspects of yoga that is part of some classes is chanting ‘Om’; it feels too Hindu or Buddhist for my Catholic sensibilities.   

I don’t usually chant.  But that day, at the end of class, I did, three times…“Mom…Mom…Mom”. 

Charles Darwin, the Internet and the Nature of Existence

Do any of you remember when you first learned about the Internet?  I remember the place and the occasion, but not the specific date.  It had to be sometime in the early 1990s. I taught for nearly 20 years at Carnegie Mellon University and they held regular workshops for adjunct faculty.   During one of those workshops, the facilitator/professor introduced what were to me the first websites I had ever seen.  I recall being intrigued by being able to view restaurant menus online; my fascination and vision of what the Internet meant was clearly limited.  One comment made by this professor has stuck with me for over 15 years.  He remarked that people who were not connected to the World Wide Web, through sites or through email, would essentially cease to exist at a certain level of being.  They would become like dinosaurs and fade away as part of ancient history.  He reasoned that social discourse would be conducted this way and that if one was not able to participate in it, or to exchange information through it, they were in effect, dead.  My brother and I were talking about this idea of existence in cyberspace and he was commenting about the prevalence of blogs among professionals, particularly economists.  He opined that in order to be part of the public exchange of ideas, you have to communicate in this way, in real time and have followers and commenters.  This builds the modern version of dialogue.
A few weeks ago, I met a friend for lunch and as we were catching up, I told her about how much fun I have been having with facebook and with blogging.  Carrie, as I'll name her, has no personal email account, no facebook page and does not use a computer except at work.  I can't use what are key tools in my communications repertoire to keep up and connect with her.  And I was reminded of the comment from that years-ago workshop. 
So, I blog, therefore I exist?

Memories and The Italian Garden Project

Growing up, the garden in our backyard was a source of embarrassment to me every summer.   No other house in our neighborhood had a garden.  My mom spent countless hours digging, planting, weeding and picking.  My dad mostly watched and supervised.  I thought it was a weird kind of ethnic thing that made us stand out; there were not a lot of Italians in Munhall.  Coupled with my last name of obviously Italian ethnicity, which I thought was even weirder, I spent most of my youth embarrassed and wishing my dad could do something more normal for a living, like work in a steel mill and that my mom would stop spending so much time outside, wearing a sunhat, digging in the garden.  

By my late twenties, following a trip to Italy with my father that involved visiting his hometown and the hometown of my mother's parents, I discovered that ethnic could be cool. 
Yesterday, the Pittsburgh Public Market in the Strip District hosted a slide show presentation by the Italian Garden Project, "Come Back to the Garden:  Italian Gardens of the Pittsburgh Region."  Unfortunately by the time I read about it, it was over.  It seems that now I am in my 50s, the whole Slow Food, CSA and home garden movement is totally trendy.  The Italian Garden Project, based in Sewickley, is planning tours this summer of some of the better ones in the area.  And on June 25, there will be a presentation at the Public Market from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. on "Italian Wedding Dances and Wedding Cookie Recipe Exchange."  The photograph of the cookie table at our wedding is one of my favorite photos (remember my first word was 'cookie')  See www.TheItalianGardenProject.com.