4/3: A Baby Boomer Memoir

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A Baby Boomer

Memoir

Melba McGee

Copyright © 2017 Melba McGee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of historical fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 (877) 407-4847

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-7381-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-7383-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-7382-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901264

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/04/2017

Contents

Dedication

An Invitation to Dance: Setting the Stage for Understanding this Book

Now There’s a Story…

Preamble

Introduction - The Thirds of my Life

Prologue - Route

Forward … 57 and Stuck

Welcome to the Narrative: Invitation to the Reader

1stThird - Dancing and Sparkling

Introduction: Meeting the Players; Learning the Skills

Born 1950, Deep River, Ontario

Learning to Sparkle on Command

Where did the Light Go?

Leaving

Stealing

The Snake and the Rock (or, bringing up little brothers)

The Alice Effect

The Librarian

Took Three in the Back

Cold War from the Perspective of a Child

Busyness and Happyness

Do You Love Me Enough to Save Me from This?

Bent - Another Melba’s Life

Needle

Samhain and Hallowe’en

Dating: Project or Partner or Love

Stay and Be My Research Assistant

A Career Instead of a Job

Moving Forward

Blame

Starfish Story - adapted from that of Lorm Eiseley (or Why I Teach)

Advice from a Tree - adapted from that of Ilan Shamir

1stThird: Themes, Lessons Learned, and Wisdom

Conclusion: And So the Stage is Set

2ndThird - Keeping Up With Success; Jobbing; Dancing as Fast as I Can

Introduction: Experience, Organizer, Facilitator

Job and Career: Education as Teacher

New School - New Atmosphere - New Leadership Style

When Woman / Women Became Womyn

Building a House - Making a Home

Well, the House is Habitable, and We Are Still Speaking …

I Put Butter on my Plate Five Times yet I Still Cannot Find Any Butter for my Bread!

Babies … Mmmm-Hmmm

School Board and Teacher - Seven Years Later

BabyMumma - Hitting my Stride

School Board and Teacher - Return to Work after Maternity Leave

Community Commitment (or, Serving Needs of Others)

When I Got Up This Morning, I Had One Nerve Left

Keeping Your Straps Tied Tight - Lessons in Parenting

The Whole Ceegar!

Wash

Ms. McGee, You Have Cancer

Chemistry Lesson

School Board and Teacher - When Teacher is Sent Blindly into the Middle of the Frey

Workplace Climate - Middle Management - Corruption of Autonomy in the Workplace

School Board and Teacher - When the Teacher is Sick

What-To-Do-What-To-Do?

Memories

Driving Home

Glass Menagerie

2ndThird: Themes, Lessons Learned, and Wisdom

Conclusions: Boughs Full to Bursting

3rdThird - UnJobbing, Tidying Up, and Shared Wisdom

Introduction: Pause for Clarity of Thought; Decision to Continue Forward

57 and Stuck - The Rest of the Story

Checking Into the Aquarius Motel

WooHoo!

Birth

This Comment came at a Good Time …

A Quest and a Gift

An Old Year and a New Year … Both Dear Friends and both Gifts

Hope (with a dash of Whimsy)

Banding

Gathering - and a Community is Born

Crystal - Clarity during Mental Health Week - the Autistic Mind at Work

Wind – Lifelong Friend, Sometime Foe

Today I Shit My Pants - a Lesson in Grounding Self

Dress: Individuality or Universality

The Greatest Gift

Grateful for You …

Holidays or HolyDays

How can I Possibly Make Sense of This?

Night Time

Seeds – Planting for the New Year

Letter

Masks: the Alice Effect

Not That Long Ago

Passenger

Struggle for Power

Step Lively

So, What’s a Jump List?

The Table

Missy Porkypine

Finding Myself

3rdThird: Themes, Lessons Learned, and Wisdom

Conclusions: Pause to Clarify Thoughts; Decisions to Take the Exit Ramp or to Continue on this Plane

4thThird - Letting Go (and Just Being Me)

So Here I Am

The Art of the Drift

New Perspective

The Older I Get

When I Die

4thThird: Themes, Lessons Learned, and Wisdom

About the Author

Dedication

This book is dedicated to:

Melba,

who felt herself to be unheard and misunderstood; and who, though firmly established in her BabyBoomer time, was not connected to how that culture affected the way in which she saw herself and the way in which she reacted to everything around her. May she finally see that She Is, that She is Good, that She is Enough, that She is Good Enough.

All the Melbas,

who wanted to write, to find their voice, and to realize their dream.

My Amazing Family,

with whom I can share anything, who understand my idiosyncrasies, who ground me by holding my hand whenever I have spun off the earth, and who make me feel worthy.

An Invitation to Dance: Setting the Stage for Understanding this Book

Now There’s a Story…

When trying to make sense of something, I thrash it about, I write about it, tell stories about my world, and share what I found out. The dialogue that ensues is so enlightening, is lightening the weight from heart and soul, is lighting my way forward, is righting my compass, and is filling my heart.

My friends and audiences say that they learn so much from my stories that I must write and share them so others can read and learn, too.

I have this idea for organizing my life’s writings into a collection, with Themes from a lifetime of living, teaching, learning, helping, feeling, sparkling on command; of living a life in the culture of busy-ness and ADHD, cancer and wellness challenges; of being a Workhorse; of making sense of impossibilities; of being Maiden then Mother and then Crone; of being a bell-curved BabyBoomer forced to compete to stay within the top 10% of that bell curve; and finally, of living the 3rdThird.

Living in the moment is a reminder about time and place; in this time and this place we live, we focus, and we make tomorrow’s history. By living in the moment, we learn to make better time-and-place choices.

In the tradition of teaching through narrative, I offer you these stories.

Now There’s Another Story.

See you in the dialogue,

WorkhorseMelba

Preamble

My brother and sister-in-law heard about my plans to formalize my writings beyond journal and blog, and they asked me what that was all about. Would it be a tell-all-secrets exposé about interactions with others in my life? Or a factual account of something? I answered back through an email message to them:

"Hi!

Yes, I did see an email from you earlier ... about my book ... about theme and tell-all potential.

I have reached a fork in my writing road: shall I continue to write for momentary satisfaction of getting it out of my head and onto paper, or publish beyond the blog?

I am putting together my stories to fit into the theme "Thirds". Have settled into the idea of life in Thirds; 1stThird is about growing and learning; 2ndThird about working, commitment, and keeping body and soul together; and 3rdThird about retirement and reconnecting with self after career.

In the beginning, I put age numbers on the Thirds: 30, 60, 90. Then I decided that it is more about life style, commitment, and activity. Besides, when I beat the odds with cancer for the third time, I said I would claim every second of the 3rdThird ... and then invent the 4thThird!

I now have a two inch thick collection of stories: some about children and young people; some about established adults; some about post menopausal and post workplace life. All are written in first person; all are inspired by bits and pieces that were experienced by me, or are flights of fancy arising from experiences of self or others, and all are a scramble depicting several of many inspirations. They sound biographical but they are fictional.

You have known me longer than anyone, and so you will surely recognize the kernel of inspiration for each story.

Writers write what they know, and they also use their imaginations to turn the mundane into a good story or lesson. The tag line on my blog is ‘A Story Told is a Journey Enlightened». I fancy myself telling stories that will commiserate; stories that will inspire; and stories that will grab attention taking people to similar circumstances in their own lives to revisit what was, what might have been, and what can still be.

So, it is not a tell-all about others, but is, rather, about a fictional, larger than life, freckled braided red-head, hyper, hair-on-fire, fancies-herself-smart (or perhaps she is too smart for her own good) main character whom the author has granted a do-over for some situations close to my own experiences, or to those of people close to me, or to people who passed close enough by my notice.

The decision to personify each story’s main character by writing in the first person, by using the perspective of Melba, is meant to help readers to connect with Melba’s experience and to enable readers to see themselves in just such an experience.

I may have just written the foreword for the book! So, now I move forward.

This project has been close to my heart ever since I first picked up a pencil and saw the ‘majyk’ come spilling out from its point, after I read Emily of New Moon by L. M. Montgomery about another little girl who dreamed of writing, and after hearing Mum’s lifelong dreams about writing. Not all of those writing dreams were realized.

Now, I need to decide if I will make the publishing rounds, hat and manuscript in hand, with hopes of finding someone who thinks these flights of fancy might inspire or amuse others, with the hope that one will decide to publish and promote my work. Perhaps I will decide to self-publish beyond the blog.

I am researching possibilities, going back through my recent presentations at weekly Writing Group, speaking with published authors, and organizing my work into creditable sections, taking the Writer’s Workshop from Hay House, and contacting publishers…

Thanks for asking ... this is what is in front of me now.

Thanks for being such a large part of my entire life.

(((Hugs)))"

Acknowledgements and Gratitudes

Thank you, John W. Partington.

My heart and mind are aquiver with excitement!

Tomorrow is the day. Someone I have trusted with my new-born is coming to visit tomorrow to give me some honest, post-inspection advice on my baby.

Have I…

- attended to every need?

- demonstrated the feelings I have for this baby?

- covered all the bases?

- given love on all fronts? All backs? All sides?

- been honest about what I’m doing?

- been true to this baby’s potential?

- fed the baby with all the good and healthy things to help it grow appropriately and in its own right?

- understood and answered all questions that need to be addressed?

- considered how I can improve this baby’s prospects for a healthy future?

How fortunate am I, a new author, to have found an editor who understands my baby, my writing, my need to maintain my own voice, my true intent’s endeavour in writing this first book.

Thank you, John W Partington, for helping me to birth this baby, present it to the world in all its fullness, and for helping me to build a foundation that will allow this baby to grow to its fullest stature.

Thank you Writing Family for always being there for me even when I was AWOL.

These fellows are my Writing Family. They have welcomed me, listened to my first hesitant steps, and tolerated my arrival with a very rough copy spun together in inadequate time because I was working on blog or book. Still they encouraged me, shared our determinations to hold the pen and to see what majyk falls out of the tip. (Majyk is a gift from Spirit; magic is a clever trick that fools us into seeing what is not there.)

This is where this project was born and these people are my midwives.

Thank you, Lindsay S McGee for always being my sounding board, my staunch supporter, my one who reaches out to take my hand when Darkness befalls me, and who tells me when I need to rethink something. In this time, thank you for bringing that support to editing this labour of love, and to my voice.

With Gratitude.

Blessed be,

MelbaMcGee

Introduction - The Thirds of my Life

I find myself in this 3rdThird of my life, and as is my way, I need to make sense of it, to study it, to plan it, to embrace it, and to be able to make the most of it.

I have seen other people who did not thrive in the 3rdThird.

At some point in this next Third, I shall satisfy the biological imperative of dying, but not yet. First, I shall satisfy my personal imperative of living a fulfilling life every day of any Third.

My father spoke of the three phases of life in this way:

Our life is similar to the life of a tree.

The 1stThird is about taking root, sprouting branches and leaves, growing a supportive trunk, thriving, learning, and finally producing seeds;

The 2ndThird is about working, fulfilling our purpose, committing to our family, making a living to support ourselves, and being the best branches that we can be to support family, and job, and all;

The 3rdThird is described as the pruning years. Here, we are no longer valued as a family provider, or as a capable worker. We are devalued, pushed aside to make room for more deserving, more needy, or younger people. We prune away our lifelong affirmations, our teeth, our strength, our memory, our worth, our health, our independence, and our capacities. Then we wait to die.

This description had a profound effect on me. It was easily recognizable as all too true, but it was also depressing. It was an example of limiting and self-destructive thinking to prepare for death. I then decided to take a look at all three Thirds of my life, so that my 3rdThird can be as exciting, as fulfilling, as successful, and as affirming as the other two.

It is, again, up to me to be determined to be happy, satisfied, successful, generous, and compassionate. And so, into the fray, my lovely, lovable, loving Melba.

Prologue - Route

A novel arena is prominently present in my life, and I’m finding myself conscious of where I am, which begs my attention to where I have been and where I am going with this ... (thinking) ...

My path has brought me to this place and I must review my route with an eye to gratitude for bringing me to such a world of wondrous possibilities.

In my 1stThird, I had a connection with another spiritual place, with things no one else could see with their eyes, with things that I quit mentioning because I would receive admonishments not to say these comments again (because unfavourable judgement surely awaited me there, and uncertainty breeds contempt and distrust for anyone who opened the door that led away from the tried and true route, and led towards a path that only crazy people think that they can see).

My Mum used to have the ladies over for afternoon tea. Together we would host these occasions, spend the morning cleaning and then baking, greeting and welcoming the ladies in through the front door, inviting them to divest themselves of their coat (but never hat) and join us in the living room (never the family TV room!).

My first time, participating by actually hosting a tea-time event, was when I was, perhaps, 7. I had watched, listened, and learned from Mum; as usual I did not need any special invitation to jump right in. When the first lady arrived, I greeted her by name and invited her to allow me to hang up her coat. While waiting for her coat, I said to her (in my most ladylike hostess tones) that I admired her sparkly blues. The lady and my mother both looked askance at me, and Mum reminded me that Mrs. L’s dress was most definitely brown.

Both women shared a glance that said, Poor dolt of a child doesn’t know her colours yet, even at 7 years of age! I was a little put out that they refused to see the jewel-tone blue sparklies, each spinning on its own axis, all about this beautiful lady.

Next to arrive was Mrs. P. In a state of deja-vu, I did the coat-offer thing, and this time I asked my Mum why there was so much muddy brown sticking around Mrs. P. Mum stepped in and took over the welcoming tasks, and then asked me to help her in the kitchen using the tone that promised that the help was going to consist of a one-sided conversation, and that I probably wasn’t going to be on that one side.

What is wrong with you?! Mrs. P’s coat is grey and her dress is blue. All right young lady, what are you up to?

Mum, Mrs. P is surrounded with muddy brown goo that is clinging to the air around her. And Mrs. L most definitely had blue sparklies spinning all around her. Why can’t you see that? Are you sure you are even trying?

Oh my Dolly Dear, you must never mention this to anyone else but me, ever again. No one will ever believe that you can really see these things. And if you persist, then all will shun you from the social group. They will think that I told you about Mrs. L’s new baby arriving next spring and about Mrs. P’s devastating diagnosis when the rule at any social gathering is that no conversation ever escapes the room!

From that point, I was completely quiet, for if I couldn’t talk about what I clearly saw, then I probably shouldn’t talk about what my brothers and I had been up to yesterday while playing in the park and building a fort on public property to match the one on our own private back lot using the rest of Dad’s lumber stores. And I better not ask for a definition for a word that I had never heard before, but that an older boy had used on the school yard last week which made everyone gasp. And so talking about how the colours would shoot out, in all directions, from head and mouth around the minister or the teacher while they were giving the lesson was likely out of the question, too. They likely did not want a report of what the dog threw up on the back door mat after digging up and eating an old kill that he had brought home last week and left to ripen in the summer sun.

For many years, I only thought about the lights and colours while I was dancing at ballet, or playing classical music on the piano, or trying some new death-defying flip I had just learned at gymnastics. I had a teacher who tore up a piece of artwork on which I had included the colours and lights as part of my artistic interpretation and expression, so clearly art was only about drawing what everyone could see.

The colours were never mentioned again in my 1stThird.

In my 2ndThird, I would suddenly realize an insight about someone else, a family member, a child in my class, a friend, or a colleague. It would begin as a light or a colour and I would jump to a conclusion about what the other person was feeling that later proved right, more often than not. This ability helped me to understand that there were many occasions when someone else could not put thoughts or feelings to words, but the floodgates would open when I found a private moment to ask them how they were doing with … something. At some point in the conversation, they would give me a look that said, Can you really read my mind all the time?

But no, my earliest experience taught me that it was intrusive of me to go looking into the colours and lights of others. To the point where I would shield myself from consciously noticing. To the point where I would avoid and even think that I had destroyed the ability altogether.

Late in my 2ndThird, I was having a conversation with my Indigo-Child. She had been doing some research and having some discussion about something called Reiki. Reiki is an Energy Work practice, that works with energies that are similar to lights, colours, tones, and sounds. One can attend seminars, right here in our town, and can take lessons and practice to learn how to ‘give Reiki’ on command.

We decided that she should start this journey first, and that I would join her after she had completed her first two levels of training. We would both complete our third or Master training together.

At our Reiki classes, demonstrations, and discussions, we would share our experiences around anything to do with Energy Work. So many years after my initial decision to avoid the energies that are within and that surround, I had finally come home to my comfortable place in the Reiki world of energy, colour, tones, sounds, and tingles. I would never again be shunned, would never again be heaped with admonishments and judgements, and would never again feel like there was something wrong with me. And there were more like me.

Yes, my path has brought me home!

My 3rdThird path has, again, brought me to Reiki as a forefront in my focus. We are making plans to create a ReikiCommunity. We are renewing and energizing our natural talents and opening our arms to embrace others who are ready to join us.

Welcome Home!

This Book, called 4/3, is a collection of stories from the Thirds showing how the understandings from each Third affect, encourage, and limit us in the present moment. Perhaps my stories and lessons will