Giving Up Hope

My life has been pretty darn cushy thus far. But, you don't reach my age without having experienced some downfalls and disasters. I have never given up hope. I have been sad, depressed, angry and scared. Yet, hope always remains -- even when it's just a flicker.

I think the Belle gave up hope when she saw independence going away. Having her keys taken away was humiliating. Knowing that they would have to move to a facility of some sort was more than she could bear. I should've seen the signs but I didn't.

Hangdog gave up hope years ago. You could see it in his demeanor and you could experience it in a single conversation. After the Belle died, he gave up all will to live. Do you think you can will yourself to die? Some people believe this. I wasn't sure how I felt about that question but I think I just witnessed it.

When people say, "I have nothing to live for," I'm stunned. I want to say, "Of course you do. You can live with hope that tomorrow may bring a solution to the situation you're mired in. At least, live with the hope that it will be a better day."

This brilliant bit of philosophy is brought to you by the woman who still crawls on the dog pillow during difficult times.

A Different Kind of Ant

Just like the song, High Hopes, talked about ants, I want to do it too. Only in this case, it's my aunts. My father had two sisters who adored him. One has passed away but the other is very influential in my life. I'll get to her in a minute.

My mother is the oldest of three girls. Her sisters have seen me through thick and thin. They probably get very sick of me calling or emailing them. (One is high tech; one is no tech.)

I was taught that you're not supposed to express envy or covet things but if you'll give me a little wiggle room, I'll try not to be blasphemous.

I can be jealous of my aunts. They are these incredibly talented, funny, interesting people. Then, I realize I'm grateful -- in a weird and honorable way, I get to say, "Mine!" It's possessive. I'm possessive. These are my aunts.

One of my aunts lived with us periodically during my childhood. She taught me this lesson: When someone else pulls your hair, grab theirs and yank hard. By the way, she's the most talented artist I've had the pleasure to know. She has more talent in the tip of her pinkie than I have in my entire body.

One of my aunts used to take my infant self on dates with her (now) husband. She is far and away the funniest woman I know. I refer to her as a combination of Lucille Ball and Wild Bill. Who taught me to roll my eyes? Plus, she cooks all the time. She shares cookbooks and recipes. Do you think she's trying to tell me to kick it up a notch?

One of my aunts is a writer, speaker, community activist and has dedicated her life to family and social reform. Her influence is unending and she planted the seed for my writing passion. She's also been in the position of dealing with illness and in-home care. I can turn to her for advice or a pick-me-up talk when I'm freaking about the oldies. Plus, she's the strongest woman in the world.

My other aunt is deceased. I did not know her well. That makes me sad.

I have two great aunts on my mother's side. One showers me with soaps, lotions, candles and potions. She has dealt with her own health issues and frankly, I am stunned that she makes such an effort. (Maybe she remembers that I was the good eater.)

My other great Aunt has the most contagious laugh you've ever heard. If I'm lucky, I see her a few times a year. I always leave her presence with my heart full and my stomach hurting from too many belly laughs.

Aunts get the short end of the stick. They're not your parents and usually, their children are your generational equals so you tend to spend more time with the cousins. If you're lucky, you know and love your cousins. But it's the aunts who remember your birthday or helped pick out your baptism outfit or babysat so your parents could get a moment to themselves.

The husband had a million aunts. His mother came from a family of a jillion. (I stop counting after five.) He loved them and is in contact with some of his cousins but it's not like the relationships I have with my aunts.

As adults, we forget. So, I raise my coffee mug in a toast to aunts.

I have three aunts and two great-aunts. I am honored to also call them my friends.

The Ant Song

I have no idea how this tradition started (or why) but a jillion years ago when I was about 12 or 13-years old, my girlfriends (the Golden Girls) and I used to sing it to each other in a crisis.

A crisis at age 13 is usually being rebuffed by a boy, getting a bad grade, having a pimple, someone being mean to you. It doesn't matter; it's still a crisis. During those times, having a girlfriend sing it could make you smile, make you feel loved and change your day.

Just what makes that little ol' ant think he can move that rubber tree plant?
Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes.
When you're feeling low, 'stead of letting go, just remember that ant.

You know the rest.

This morning I received an email. The gist of it was: I need the ant song.

So, I called and sang it to her. I don't know if she feels any better but I definitely do.

The song title is actually, High Hopes but in our world it's The Ant Song. We're alllowed to request it from each other at any time. It's also mandatory anytime we all get together.

High Hopes

Frank Sinatra sang it best:

Just what makes that little old ant
Think he can move that rubber tree plant
Everyone knows an ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant

But he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie in the sky hopes

My golden girls and I used to sing this in high school. We still occasionally sing it to each other when one of us seems to need a boost.

I get depressed with the oldies. Their version of high hopes is that the mail will come early. Yippee!

I have a lot of wishes and dreams. I hope you do too. Just remember that ant ...

Whoops, there goes another rubber tree, whoops there goes another rubber tree, whoops there goes another rubber tree plant.