The Joy of Caring

Reflections of a Daughter of the Silent Generation and Mother of Generation Y

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Upcoming Book Release: A Seal Named Sunshine

Last spring, I started another children’s book, this one based on the journey that began with discovering a stranded gray seal pup while we were taking a winter dog walk. I was inspired by what I witnessed as I watched Marine Mammals of Maine (MMoME) collect, rehabilitate, and release this beautiful creature and her poolmate Dexxy back into Casco Bay. Writing it all down felt like a celebration of dedication, generosity, resilience, hope, and grit. Telling this caregiving story felt lighter than the last one I shared (Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story) as it involved sitting at my table drawing pictures of baby seals while Peach the Cat tried to play with my trusty coloring pencils.

This fall, as the book neared completion, unexpected challenges popped up in my personal life and horrific aggressions happened globally, then locally. I lost the clarity I usually rely on to get things done. While I wanted to do justice to A Seal Named Sunshine: The Story of Sunshine and All the Rest Who Made a Big Splash One Winter in Maine, my focus was pulled to the broader losses, and I wondered if obsessing on a seal’s eye markings was inappropriate, self-indulgent, and even denial of the larger context.

I thank my lucky stars for my creative coach and publishing consultant Lindy Gifford (www.manifestidentity.com) for her patience with my tweaks and her continued attention to the details, those I missed and those I had a hard time letting go. 

In the wake of the mass shooting in Lewiston, I texted her an apology for my slow pace: “Hi Lindy, I just wanted to acknowledge, as I continue to finesse Sunshine’s image, there’s so much loss, sadness and fear in our state right now. I hope you and your loved ones are okay, even as I know this touches us all even if from a distance…”

Lindy replied: “Don’t worry, Terry. We have to keep doing our work…These are scary and unsettling times for sure and I am happy I can also work on good books like yours with good people like you… Sending calm and resolve to us all.”

This is not the first time Lindy has helped me stay the course through the home stretch of self-publication. I appreciate her presence at my side, sorting through all kinds of things, from caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s disease, to describing fictional animal adventures (The Douglas the Rabbit Adventure Series), to capturing the intricacies of marine mammal conservation.

I realize today that all the drawing and redrawing does not minimize graver concerns, it actually gives me comfort and purpose. As I hold close the devastating losses faced by so many, I allow myself space to finish this project, in the hope it will support the efforts of organizations like MMoME while also spreading the wonder I experienced watching them work their magic. I hope A Seal Named Sunshine will bring you joy like it does me. I’ll let you know when it’s available : )

1, 2, 3…ready or not, here we come: Douglas the Rabbit’s Fall Field Trip

With autumn in sight, I’m eager to share another fun story:

The third book in the series, this one is dedicated to my cousin Margie (“Pea-Wea”) who fondly recalls Dad’s yarns and joins me on adventures of our own, making me laugh every step of the way (note above photo, circa 1976). I’m grateful for friends like her who offer encouragement while keeping it real, and also help me recall the details so that we can reminisce long after.

The drawings of Brown’s farm were inspired by Margie’s childhood home in Waterville, Maine, where we played all kinds of rambunctious games with her siblings, Andy and Beth. I appreciate how their parents, Uncle Bill and Ainty Joano, kept the doors open and the treats hidden… where we could easily find ’em!

Book Three merges these recollections with adult memories of R’s Farm of Mequon, Wisconsin, where my spouse and I took our own kids, year after year, for fun fall outings. I’m thankful, too, for the examples set by our bunnies, Mocha and Cocoa, who showed us how rabbits do what they do, and by our dogs, Bubby, Daisy and Yaz, who alerted us to visitors when the kids were young.

Here’s to the beauty of the upcoming season—can’t you just smell the warm apple pie?

PS: Click on the book to find it online, or go to your local bookstore and ask for it there. Enjoy!

Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story is launched!

What I am letting go in publishing this book isn’t Mom; it isn’t my caregiving journey; it isn’t even all the reflection I’ve done along the way. What I am letting go is fear, the what ifs, the wish for one more do-over, choosing, instead, to let love fill our sails:

If you or someone you know is interested in reading Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story, it is available to order at your local book store (just ask) and also online at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Sherman’s Maine Coast Book Shops, IndieBound, and Bookshop (just click).

Thank you for your interest and I wish you and your loved ones many blessings this holiday season.

Choosing Emphasis… here, there, everywhere

When I blogged about caring for Mom, I meant to keep it real. I wrote about what I was experiencing, editing to make sure it was readable, and then letting it fly. I wrote to reflect, to connect, to relieve, unaware of certain choices, like whether “to quote,” to italicize, to make bold, to use exclamation points!

In the midst of a later read-through of Living Is for Living, the book based on the reflections I blogged, one of the students I tutor was reading an assignment aloud. The plot was complex, and he was working hard to interpret the details. I was struck by how his tone shifted when he got to a sentence in italics; his voice showed that he knew those words were significant, even before he read them.

Which landed me back at my computer the next morning, reviewing Living Is for Living, this time paying attention to the emphasis I’d used. I discovered plenty of all four techniques, which made sense given the intensity of what I was feeling and describing along the way, which led to a realization today:

Sometimes, the words I say are heard differently than how I mean them. I wonder, in the way I speak, in the emphasis I offer, am I cueing the recipient in an effective way? Not that I need to, that I even can, hide how deeply I feel what I feel, still, I can certainly be more aware of how I communicate and its impact on others.

Both in writing and in conversing, I can “slow down,” pay attention, step away, and come back more intentional about how and what I emphasize—even when I’m charged up!

Book Lay Out: “and” not “or”

This last bit, the back and forth with Lindy as she carefully lays out Living Is for Living, word by word, reminds me of childbirth: it requires willingness, focus, patience and humility, in the midst of discomfort and anticipation. There’s the familiar cognitive back and forth: do I hold on or do I let go or am I kidding myself to think I have any control over what happens next, once this book is published.

So what do I do? I nest: I sort trinkets, rehang pictures, rearrange books. I even gladly pause to take my many morning herbs (intended to tame Lyme and other things). And, big surprise, I write : )

Then I remember the notion of AND that I learned in my interfaith chaplaincy studies. What if I swap and for or: I hold on and I let go and I kid myself. This balance of good intention and good humor do seem to come in handy at this moment of delivery.

I’m grateful

that the animals

are right here at my side

and that Lindy is

one heck of a writing midwife,

respecting my perspective and pace,

while attending to every single detail.

We’ll get there—I just gotta trust, breathe, do what I can, and let the process unfold. Speaking of which, back to checking the latest version!

COVID-19 Staying at Home – finding guidance in parental wisdom during this time of pandemic stress

Tamridge, Mom and Dad, circa 1980

There were moments, when nothing seemed as it was and everything seemed newly tenuous. Dad’s “we shall see” and “bottom line” and Mom’s “living is for living” and “aren’t we lucky” reminded me to be patient, to simplify, to let go of fear, and to count our blessings.

—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story

Here’s to you Ainty Jono

I was lucky that this sweet, funny, intelligent, kick ass, sassy woman was my aunt and that her daughters and their spouses were part of my village. I hoped we’d see Mom through her life with the steady, patient and brave approach that helped them see Aunt Joan through hers. I was thankful to them for showing me that it could be done.

—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story

Step One, admitting we are powerless #fillintheblank

AA’s Step One: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.” Although I couldn’t change the course of Mom’s Alzheimer’s, I could impact the quality of her days. Hence, it was oddly reassuring when I asked her at dinner, the weather raging outside our door, “Mom, do you like where you’re living?” and she responded, “Good building, good people, what’s not to like?” (Al-Anon’s Twelve Steps & Twelve Traditions)

—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story

Happy New Year!

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Reflections, December 2017

In Barbara Cooney’s Ms. Rumphius, a young girl tells her elderly aunt, “When I grow up, I too will go to faraway places, and when I grow old, I too will live beside the sea” to which her aunt responds, “There is a third thing you must do. You must do something to make the world more beautiful.”

—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story

No Need to Yell

Speak quietly with confidence, no need to yell.

Speak quietly with confidence, ‘til then listen well.

Don’t speak out of turn, when it’s not mine to learn.

Let them hold their own, now that they’re grown.

Forgive myself, I meant no harm.

Living learning, here on the farm.

(February 13, 2015)

—from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story

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