Buckie Paper Restored

Earlier this year, I said I’d not be renewing my subscription to the Buckie Paper, (Banffshire Advertiser) because of postage costs.

I’ve changed my mind and will be receiving my paper, soon.

But if postage costs increase much more, it might be cheaper for me to go Buckie and pick it up myself!

Thoughts on “The English American”, a novel by Alison Larkin

Alison expresses many wise thoughts on adoption in this book. I wanted to use a highlighter pen on all the points she made. But I dare not! Alison signed my book and I cannot scribble in it. Alison ends Chapter 14 with:

“There are a lot of people who don’t want me to tell the truth about any of this. There’s a lot at stake. But you can’t keep the truth from coming out, anymore than you can stop kin from finding kin.

There’s a natural law with secrets. It’s the same law that applies to kettles. If you block the ventilation hole, there will eventually an explosion.”

It sounded like a warning!

Who keeps the adoption secrets and why? In some adoption situations, it’s the adoption agency or the person who facilitated the adoption. Adoptive parents often withhold information because they are scared of losing their children to the biological family. Birth mothers often refuse to identify the birth father and we adoptees know very well that we are not the products of virgin births.

On my quest to find my biological family, I wrote to the doctor who had arranged my adoption, asking for information about my biological family. His response was wishy-washy and all I learned was that he thought I should be grateful to my adoptive parents. He did say my birth parents came from ‘decent’ backgrounds, but he said nothing about my cerebral palsy or the circumstances of my birth. Being grateful for being adopted certainly did not provide me with information about my medical inheritance.

When I did make contact with my birth mother she refused to tell me who my birth father was. She practically told me it was none of my business and that by asking, I was interfering with her private life! I am not really sure if she understood that, unfortunately, MY private life was connected to hers.

Eventually, she did tell me his name, but by that time, I’d already found out for myself.

Alison illustrates another aspect of the adoption secrecy in a situation to which I strongly relate. Walt, Pippa’s biological father, had been promising he’d tell his other 2 children, Edwin and Ashley about her, but he never does.

When Pippa is spending a weekend with Walt at his beach house, Edwin turns up unexpectedly.

“It’s your brother,” Walt says, “ Quick! Get down!”

“I’m sorry?” I looked at Walt to see if he’s joking. He isn’t.

“Get DOWN!”

Pippa kneels on the floor of Walt’s car until Edwin leaves. This is her reaction to the incident.

“I feel dirty. Insignificant. Unwanted. Second class. A secret that needs to be shut away. A problem that needs to be managed. For the first time since I arrived in America, I feel like an old-fashioned, bona fide bastard.”

I know all too well the feeling of being a skeleton in someone’s closet. It has evolved into my making my own closet to placate other people.

I’m done with closets. I’ve broken out of my one and I’m never going back!

“Age Disna Come Its Lane…” My Granny used to say.

Last week, as I was walking home from the shops, a neighbour called out to me. “Call the police if you see somebody at my door!”

“Has someone been trying to break into your house?” I asked. I would not have been surprised if this was the case. There have been a few burglaries in the area and someone even tried to break into my house a few years ago. I was at home at the time and I know how unsettling that can be.

But I was very unsettled when my neighbour told me that is was her daughter who had been breaking into her house and had stolen checks, compromising her back account.

I asked her if she’d changed her locks. “Yes! But my daughter STILL gets in!”

I asked her what the police had done about it. She waved her hands vaguely and looked confused.

I suddenly realised that my neighbour was completely changed. For the 20 years we have been neighbours, she had always been impeccably dressed in subdued colours and understated jewelry. She had been full of energy, living happily independent in her small house and was always delighted to chat when we met.

Now I was talking to a dishevelled stranger. The neighbour I had known had gone away. I’d seen her as recently as three weeks before.

I started to feel skeptical about what she had told me about her daughter stealing from her. I did not know her daughter and the fact that my neighbour believed that she was still able to get into the house after she’d had the locks changed alarmed me.

I noticed that my neighbour had a sign indicating she had a home alarm system installed and asked if she activated it at night. “Oh No! It makes too much noise!”

My neighbour was anxious and my questions had added to her confusion.

I visited her the next day and offered to help her in anyway she needed. She’d told me she was going away and needed to prepare to leave her house. But, on that visit, she’d forgotten my name and that we’d talked the day before.

Now, it occurred to me that she might think I’d come to steal from her! Oh dear! I was a stranger in her house and any attempt to help her pack might confuse her further, so I did nothing.

I’ve heard a relative is coming to take her to live with her in another state and will deal with all the logistics of the move.

I’ll say goodbye to her, but I’ve already said goodbye to the neighbour I used to know.

No Jury

I was not required to attend jury duty at Oakland Superior Court on March 13, after all.

I called the court, as instructed, the evening before and the message was that I was not needed for the next morning, but to call again between 11 am and noon on the 13th for further instructions.

Again, I was not required and that is my jury duty completed for a year.

Relief, yes! But annoyance that I’d been fretting over the process and getting there by myself.

I don’t think I’m as independent as I used to think I am. I’ll have to work on this.

Mam

Mam kept a wee diary, in which she recorded a few sentences about what she had done that day.

I saw her writing, every evening, but I never looked at the diary, although she never hid it.

The ‘Collins’ diaries were still there, when I went to Buckie to prepare the house for sale, in 2002. I was tempted to bring them back with me, but in the end, chose to take only one. It’s the diary she wrote in 1965. I was 15 in 1965.

I was miserable in 1965 and I wanted to see myself from her point of view. But I couldn’t bear to read it, when I brought it home to California, and it’s only, in March, 2008, that I’ve looked at it.

So far, from her brief entries, I’ve confirmed what I already suspected about her life. She was as unhappy as I was. She’d lived the whole of her married life in the same house as her mother-in-law.

In the diary, she referred to her mother-in-law as ‘Ma C.’ Mam was always gentle, polite and her describing her mother-in-law as ‘Ma C.’ tells everything about how she felt about her.

Mam was often ill and spent many days in bed that year. She had severe migraine headaches and bilious attacks, which I am sure were stress-induced.

I read only the entry for the corresponding current date and from the beginning of March, she had spent most days in bed.

Even so, she made breakfast for her parents-in-law and lunch for me when I had a break at school. Dad was at sea during the week and oblivious to all this. He did not ever understand the urgency to get his wife a home and kitchen of her own.

I did understand, but I was 15. What could I have done?

Shoes

I wanted/needed summer shoes and sandals, but my search for them was getting akin to finding the Holy Grail.

I was close to getting coconut shells and clopping my way through woods and fields to help in my quest, and I thought I had a better chance of finding a nice shrubbery than footwear.

Stiletto heels are back in fashion as are the contrasting flat shoes and all are designed for young women with narrow feet and who have no concern for their feet or their backs.

Yet, I had a good experience in the Berkeley ‘Walk Shop’, the other day. I asked to have my feet measured, described my shorter right leg, with no ankle bending problem, and the salesman and I worked together to get me shod. This is what I chose; the style is R1702-51. They fitted and I think I’ll limp comfortably in them. They’re pretty!

As we say in Buckie, ‘Better tae be oot the qweets, than oot the fashion!’ (‘Better to twist your ankle than be out of fashion!’)

Bit it’s nae me that ye’ll see on thon stilettos!

Jury Duty

I’ve received a summons to appear at the Superior Court of California in Oakland on March 13.

This is problematic. The main problem is my getting to the courthouse. Richard will be in Washington, DC on that date and I’ve got get myself to the courthouse.

I called the courthouse and explained that I do not drive, don’t live near a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station and have problems with the buses. I blogged about the local buses in October last year.

The court clerk didn’t know how to help with my transportation requirements. Surely EVERYONE drives!

She consulted her ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) manual. Am I blind? If I am, she could supply the court proceedings in Braille. Am I deaf? If I am, she could give a hearing loop.  At least, I think that’s what she said, if I heard her correctly.

Then she was completely flummoxed when I explained that I have the use of only one hand and that I might need assistance with attaching the juror badge, should I be required to attend the court. That wasn’t mentioned in the manual and did that mean that I don’t wear jewelry?

I’d need to get a note from my doctor, she said.

I’ve never consulted a doctor, in all the years I’ve lived in USA, for cerebral palsy. I stopped my six monthly visits with a consultant in Scotland when I was 15.  I thought I was wasting my time, because I knew there was no cure for CP. I chose to ‘get on with it’ and ignore cerebral palsy.

This has always been easier said than done, and my close friends and my husband have patiently borne the brunt of my frustrations.

I am very interested in the discussions of the models of disability; medical model versus social model.

I am not ill.

I just don’t want to depend on the kindness of strangers to pin my juror’s badge and I don’t want a doctor’s note to say I can’t.

House Meme

Another meme. I got this one from Rachel Finch.

1. When you walk in your front door, which room do you enter?
   A small lobby. It has a coat closet, which does not have room for many coats. There is also a chair in the lobby so we can sit and remove our outdoor shoes.
2. Do you have a dishwasher?
   Yes. There are only 2 of us, but it seems to be running all the time.
3. Is your living room carpeted or does it have hardwood floors?
   Oak floors. We took up the carpet soon after we moved in.
4. Do you keep your kitchen knives on the counter or in a
   drawer?
   Knives are in wooden knife rack on the work peninsula.
5. House, apartment, duplex or trailer?
   House.
6. How many bedrooms is it?
   Technically, 3, but we both use one each as home offices, so we really only have one bedroom.
7. Gas stove or electric?
   Dual fuel Viking. Gas top, Electric oven.
8. Do you have a yard?
   Yes. Had it landscaped and a patio laid. Great to sit out in the summer and barbecue.
9. What size TV is in the living room?
   There is no TV in the living room
10. Are your plates in the same cupboard as your cups?
    Yes. All crockery all together at all times.
11. Is there a coffee maker sitting on your kitchen counter?
    1 French press, 1 stovetop espresso pot. Those are Richard’s. There is 1 teapot for me.
12. What room is your computer in?
    The room that I use as an office. I’ve got £500 and a room of my own.
13. Are there pictures hanging in your living room?
    Yes. 3. 2 are cat faces by Marin county artist, Elly Simmons and one is a woodblock of ‘the tree of life’ that we bought soon after we were married in 1973. We have more pictures that we bought in local art galleries, but we have no idea where we put them. They are all of cats.
14. Are there any themes found in your home?
    Yes. The house was built in 1929 and we’ve tried hard to keep as many of the original features as possible, even though we’ve had extensive remodelling. The lath and plaster walls in the living and dining rooms definitely have an earthquake theme. The cracks are a feature, not a bug.
15. What kind of laundry detergent do you use?
    Any brand that is fragrance free and is on sale.
16. Do you use dryer sheets?
    No. They did not agree with my dryer and the Miele technician told me to stop using them.
17. Do you have any curtains in your home?
    Yes. In the living room, which takes the brunt of the afternoon sun. I insist that the bushes in front of the window be kept bushy. I want to get a Japanese screen for sun protection. It’s on the ‘to do’ list.
18. What color is your fridge?
    Stainless steel
19. Is your house clean?
    We do not live in squalor, but we are realistic and we do clean the house. We also have a monthly cleaning service.
20. What room is the most neglected?
    Richard’s office. That is completely off-limits and a duster or vacuum never ventures there.
21. Are the dishes in your sink/dishwasher clean or dirty?
    Dirty in dishwasher, clean in sink
22. How long have you lived in your home?
    20 years
23. Where did you live before?
    In USA, apartments in Berkeley. In UK, house in Cambridge.
24. Do you have one of those fluffy toilet lid covers on your toilet?
    No, but I used to know people who did and they also had frilly toilet roll covers.
25. Do you have a scale anywhere in your house?
    I assume this means scales to weigh myself. Yes. In my office and used daily.
26. How many mirrors are in your house?
    4. One in my office. We bought this one in Robert Sayle’s in Cambridge, when we bought our house in 1975. I can see all of myself in this one. Three in the bathroom: one over the sink, a full length one on the door of the floor to ceiling medicine cabinet and a magnifying mirror. I never like what I see in that one, but it is necessary. One in the dining room. It’s small, with a decorated border. It was a gift from a friend who lives in Peru.
27. Look up. What do you see?
    Cubbyholes and cupboards of my roll top desk that doesn’t have a roll top. My Cromarty Granny had a splendid roll top desk and I hoped to inherit it. But when that time came, I was already in USA and it wasn’t a good idea to import a desk with woodworm passengers. I had a desk made in the style of a roll top, with all the drawers, pullouts and drawers and the only photo I have of Granny sits on it.
28. Do you have a garage?
    No. There was one when we bought the house, but we replaced it with a designer shed. It’s really the Tardis and goes “WHEE WHEE WHEE!”

Marines in Berkeley

On Tuesday, February 13, the Berkeley City Council changed its mind about sending a letter to Marines who staff a Marine recruiting office in downtown Berkeley telling them they were “unwelcome intruders.” The San Francisco Chronicle and the New York Times gave it lots of coverage.

This incident has made the Berkeley City a laughing stock round the country. The home of Free Speech or is it?

I’ve been happy living in this area for the past 30 years. I was thrilled to live in the cradle of the Free Speech Movement. But it feels as Berkeley has been resting on those laurels for too long.

In the last year, we’ve had out-of-town guests and we’d looked forward to showing them and sharing what we love about the area. But when we see downtown Berkeley through their eyes, we have to agree with them. “It’s a dump!” It’s not only the Marines that are unwelcome, visitors feel unwelcome too!

In the 30 years we’ve lived here, we’ve seen downtown Berkeley decline and doorways have become the homes of the homeless. Businesses have closed and moved away. The new businesses that open don’t stay for long and there are just too many vacant businesses.

I’m not unsympathetic to the plight of those who are homeless, but their presence has caused blight in the heart of the city. Or am I wrong? Does the City council simply not care about welcoming everyone to downtown Berkeley?

I like my Free Speech to come with a dose of Common Sense.

Spring!

Yesterday, spring arrived in the Bay Area. It seems to arrive the same way every year. It’s a surprise!

I could watch the weather forecast, but that would ruin the surprise!

When I went to the Farmers’ Market, I thought, “That fowk must be affy caul in their shorts.” Then it occurred to me that I wis fair peowin in my jumper (that’s a sweater.) I had to change when I came home.

What a treat to hang out my washing and know that it will dry. Richard spent the afternoon gardening.

May’s no oot, bit I’m castin my cloots.