What happened to Thanksgiving?

So I'm wondering, what happened to Thanksgiving?  I moved for 3 years to Africa and when I returned, I realized that they now skip Thanksgiving here in America.  This is true if you believe what you see in the stores.  I've been in quite a few...Walgreens, Walmart, Target, to name a few...and they are ALL skipping Thanksgiving!

I love to shop.  This is no secret, and I've especially looked forward to each holiday since our return from Africa.  I love to see what new little decorations and trinkets have been created since I left.  Or, more importantly, what new and creative ways the marketing companies have devised to sell me more junk.  It's especially significant because I'd like to "update" my holiday decorations this year, with items that will last for the next 3 years while we are once again overseas.

I've found some lovely new pumpkins to decorate the house with (after one of mine was broken) for Halloween and the Fall.  I found all kinds of yummy holiday colored m&m's  and mellocreme pumpkins (a real treat after leaving a country that only celebrated Valentine's Day and didn't believe in holiday candy).  I also picked up a nice new set of placemats...that really work for all seasons, but fall colors are my favorite!

You see, this is like a sport for me...shopping for just the right thing for the holidays...to make things more cheerful and seasonal.  Many countries either don't share our holidays, or the seasons are different, so the colors simply aren't part of that celebration.  I feel that if I don't decorate INSIDE my house, my children won't grow up understanding some of the things that made our American holidays special.

Soooo, when Halloween was over.  I thought, "Ohhh, perfect.  I can now go find that PERFECT door decoration for Thanksgiving."  You see, this is Joe's favorite holiday after all.  He loves the food and the football...does it get any better?  THIS is America!  The land of the free, home of the brave, and a place I can find ANY turkey laden item I can dream up...or so I thought.

But, to my shock and surprise, as I entered through the doors of the famed Target, I realized after just one or two aisles...that THEY FORGOT THANKSGIVING!  Where did it go?  STRAIGHT to Christmas.  Literally, the store had one end shelf with some cute little Thanksgiving napkins.  I bought 3 packages.  Apparently, Thanksgiving simply doesn't have the "retail draw" that both Halloween and Christmas do.  But did they have to SKIP it altogether?  Does it mean nothing?

I've found a few token Thanksgiving items...but seriously, I've been traveling around the shops for two weeks now...searching high and low for Thanksgiving.  It's gone.  Vanished.

And what a shame.  Thanksgiving is a TRUE American holiday.  It's about Pilgrims and Indians and the Mayflower and the discovery of our nation and food, glorious food!  HOW can we NOT market this?  It seems golden!  Halloween is fraught with fright and fear that it's going to turn someone wicked.  Christmas is about our Saviour, one of my favorites and one I'd like to think is sacred...for it's religious impact, not it's financial one.  But, either way you slice it, both are controversial...with the fear of witches and exchanging the words "Merry Christmas" for "Happy Holidays," one would think that as Americans we would GRAVITATE to the one holiday that all Americans can't argue over and that any non-American could care less about!  One with so little RISK!  But, sadly, money talks and has won again, declaring Thanksgiving a "bankrupt" holiday.

There will be no "special" Thanksgiving door decoration at my house...just a few old pumpkins and some cheap napkins.  But, we will work to make sure that INSIDE my house, our children won't forget that Thanksgiving exists.  We'll cook a turkey and all the trimmings...We'll share a meal and talk about what we are really thankful for...We'll let the football games blare on TV all day long.  And then we'll sit quietly, in our food comas, reflecting on this very special holiday and ALL that Thanksgiving means to us, even if the retail world's forgotten about it.  And then, in the early morning hours of Black Friday, we'll don our running shoes and wallets and enter into the exciting world of Christmas...at the mall and find that PERFECT Christmas door decoration.

Until then, Happy THANKSGIVING!

Seriously? Do I need to dance like a monkey?

It's that time of year again when the seasons change and the allergies flare.  It has been my misfortune to have inherited horrible allergies.  I'm allergic to cats, dogs and all things outdoors.  At 6 weeks old, I had bronchitis...so I think you'll agree that it started very young for me.  Though I'm not sure any doctor has ever told me that I have "chronic bronchitis," every Fall I've had what eventually turned into "bronchitis," and I'm pushing 40 (literally - pushing it over...), so it would stand to reason that 40 years of upper respiratory issues MIGHT make someone call is "chronic."  Oh, I had a few years of reprieve, when I caught it fast enough and it never turned into something so dire...but even then, it was a sinus infection that required antibiotics.

So, why am I writing this?  A friend recently complimented my writing skills (which I might add, I curl up with that compliment every day - it was a nice thing to say), but I replied that the only time I write is when I'm truly inspired.  I've only recently been inspired by two things.  The first being my sister - I'll write more about her later, when I have more time.  The second is this...the monkey dance.  You see, I went to the doctor today.  I've just recently arrived back in VA, so I haven't established a regular doctor yet, so I went to Urgent Care.  The name implies "speedy healthcare," but this is a misnomer, as I waited an hour to lay eyes on the doctor.

"Why did I go to the doctor at all," you say?  Well, I've had a cough for about a week...you know, the kind that makes you throw up in the morning and wakes your spouse from a dead sleep at night, not to mention what it does to your own sleep patterns.  It's not good.  It's not good at all.  Anyway, I sat, and sat, and sat...and finally was awarded a face to face with a physician who didn't even bother to introduce himself.  His bedside manner lacked...hmm...EVERYTHING!  But, there I sat, coughing and trying to entertain a 3 year old to boot.  The doctor looked at my chart (the one they'd just created) and looked at me. He checked my ears, my throat, my nose.  He asked me a few questions and I explained that, though I didn't have lots of other symptoms, that I had the dreaded cough, that had been ongoing and that my history often dictated that I couldn't/wouldn't kick it myself.  I explained about the "chronic bronchitis" b/c I thought this history was relevant.

Here's what he said:  "You aren't sick."  Really?  I'm not sick?  This is all a figment of my imagination? I'm just there, in This office, after waiting an hour, after throwing up my guts, to give him some of my money and entertain him, or waste his time?  Are you freaking kidding me?  I'm NOT SICK?  No.  He said I didn't have bronchitis and I didn't have COPD, so my lungs were fine and since I didn't have any problems breathing, I was fine.  (i.e. not sick)

THIS  is where I would normally do a monkey dance.  THIS is where I would normally say, "Oh, but I am...blah, blah, blah."  THIS is where most normal people with any sense would get up and leave recognizing him as an impostor.  THIS is where I would explain my history, why I'm there, how bad I feel, OR just lie about having had fever for a week, so we could move on with this craziness.

The Dr. was kind enough to add that most people "like me" often just throw antibiotics at this kind of stuff and it's wrong and so this causes people "like me" to misunderstand and think they need antibiotics every time they feel bad.

Do I LOOK like I WANT to take 10 days of augmentin?  That fun antibiotic that rips, no shreds, the interior lining of my stomach so that I have violent diarrhea for 3 days?  Yep....I'm addicted.

Here's what I DIDN'T say, but wanted to (besides all that other stuff I've already typed, but didn't say):  "You #$%# (I try not to curse in writing).  I've spent the last 10 years largely overseas.  In those 10 years, I've developed hypothyroidism, had 3 healthy babies, had two D&C's, developed an allergy to every known pain killer that exists, had countless sinus infections, bronchial infections, and had pretty much NO doctors that gave a #$@#$ about me or my health.  I've had to own my own health.  I've had to do a freaking monkey dance at every doctor's office because we move so often that no single doctor ever gets to treat me for the SAME thing year after year after year.  I  don't have the privilege of time or consistent history to PROVE to you that I'm sick.  So give me a freaking prescription and let me go home!"

In the end, I smiled.  He gave me a prescription for, wait for it...augmentin, while telling me that he doesn't like to hand out antibiotics and that rinsing with a nasal spray for a few days would just "fix me right up."  I didn't do a monkey dance, and I still got my prescription.  Which leads me to believe that a) he DOES give everyone an antibiotic, or b) I LOOKED like I might whip his butt.

I'm sure this will entertain few of you, but I sure do feel better.  However, if you bothered to get this far, I also figure some of you can relate to the chaos of our healthcare system, the lack of concern by our physicians and the difficulty in providing any kind of continuity in our care while serving our country!

Maybe you wonder what I really wanted him to do?  I did want an antibiotic b/c I know that's what kicks this crap.  But, it would have been nice, too, for him to say, "So, you get this every year? What season?  How long?  How do you normally treat it?"  You know, just act like he cared or that he was at least trying to understand my body, how I think, and what the BEST approach would be for MY health.  He might have come to the same conclusion, but his approach would have made the difference...he should have apologized for the wait, too...especially since there was only one other patient ahead of me.

So, to all of you who might be doctors, who might have time to read this, I hope that you will take a minute and reflect on how you treat YOUR patients.  If you HAVE been my doctor and are reading this, I hope I've never had to do a monkey dance for you, and that perhaps, I never will.

My Dad

I'm not sure this blog will provide sufficient space to honor my Dad, but it's important to me that others know what kind of man he was.  We lost my Dad on Saturday, January 29th at noon, after a 9 month battle with liver cancer.  You can read the full obituary at Kilpatrick Funeral Home - Richard E. Crawford, West Monroe.  It's a good read - my sisters,  uncle, cousin and I all helped write it.  Still, there wasn't enough space to do him justice.

My Dad was a man among men.  He was a loving, kind, gracious father.  He was quick to forgive, slow to judge, slow to anger, and always loved unconditionally.  He was married to my mother for 52 years and she was truly the love of his life.  I asked him once what allowed him to remain faithful all of those years.  He looked at me and said, "What do you mean?  I love your mother.  That's enough."  We had lots of conversations over the years about love...he called it an action verb.  He knew that love wasn't a state of being, it was showing someone how you loved them.  Dad showed us as little girls when we would stub our toe and cry.  He'd hug us and kiss us and tell us that the table was very naughty and then proceed to spank it.  If we were in trouble and, in an overly dramatic way, ran to our rooms and threw ourselves across our beds, he was the first to find us and kiss away our sadness and restore our confidence.  Dad would tell us that our actions were unbecoming, but that his love was the same.  

Dad's greatest dream was that we would all get an education.  He'd grown up in a poor community, working on the farm, but he pursued his education.   He knew the value of having one.  Dad graduated as Valedictorian of his high school class. He was a civil engineer and also obtained a degree in Meteorology while in the Air Force.  After the Air Force,  he worked off shore, built highways, surveyed land, and built paper mills.   He was a history buff and told us endless stories about historical events.  He read extensively and taught himself how to work Autocad and manage a home PC in order to keep up with the latest technology.  Dad had a great thirst for knowledge.  It didn't end with historical facts or figures either.  Dad was a student of the Bible, too.  Sometimes his logical, mathematical mind had trouble resolving the mysteries found in scripture, but he was a man of great faith.  

After my Mom got breast cancer, my Dad feared the worst.  He was suffering greatly with fear and sadness...but after a few weeks of going with Mom to treatment, he tells of a moment as he walked up the stairs to our house, when the Holy Spirit surrounded him and gave him great peace.  My Dad was forever changed.  My mom is a 7 year survivor of breast cancer, and we know that God was faithful as He spoke to my Dad to give him the peace he needed.

Dad's greatest attribute was his sense of humor.  He laughed a lot.  Dad loved to play practical jokes on folks.  His lifelong friends tell often of their antics while working offshore, and also at the Paper Mill.  He was the first to laugh at himself and with us.  I recall stepping into a large mop bucket in Piggly Wiggly around the age of 8.  It was closing time and Dad said I was looking over my shoulder and hadn't taken a breath b/c I was talking incessantly.  As I turned around, my foot landed squarely in the mop bucket and in slow motion, the bucket, the mop and I fell in a twisted, wet heap on aisle 9.  As I looked up from the soggy mess, I remember my Dad leaning fully over laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath.  

Dad also found great humor in our dates.  My prom date once had his car stall in the driveway.  He begged me not to wake up my Dad, but it was just too much fun to hear my Dad heckle the poor guy.  As I leaned in to wake Dad up, he opened his eyes and chuckled softly.  At 2 a.m., he pulled himself from bed, jumped the poor guy off, and then, as he watched him back slowly off the driveway, into the ditch, Dad walked over to his tractor and proceeded to pull him out.  I haven't talked to that guy in 20 years, but the story lives on at our house.  Especially watching my Dad crawl up the stairs as he laughed about the episode.

There were an infinite number of blind dates and not so blind dates that, as we recounted the evenings adventures to my Dad, he would laugh and pat us on the back.  He always reminded us that these were learning experiences...a  chance to weed out our choices for a mate.  Dad encouraged us to be selfish when we chose our spouse.  He said it was the one time in life when we needed to ensure that our spouse was someone who fit us well and with whom we were equally yoked.  It was a lifetime commitment and we were not to take it lightly.  I think Dad was pleased with all of our choices.  He loved all of his son-in-laws - like his own sons.  He was quick to defend them when we complained of our petty differences, and he and Mom both always sided with our husbands, reminding us to be kind, compassionate and loving.  

Dad didn't miss an opportunity to lighten the mood, though.  He walked down the aisle at my rehearsal dinner with a cane...and said he thought I'd NEVER get married.  He wasn't so happy when our career began to take us around the world, but he always said, "You have to follow him wherever he may take you.  God has put you together and  you have to honor your marriage and your commitment."  I have.

My Dad loved us girls, but he was also an exceptional grandfather.  I'm saddened by the fact that Suzy will have few memories of him.  He took my nephews hunting and fishing from their earliest days.  He used the great outdoors to teach lessons about life and death and growth and change.   Every experience was a teaching opportunity for him.  He took Mary and Will riding on his 4 wheeler, and fishing at the lake.  Mary was his walking buddy at the church each morning as he got his daily exercise, too.  Here, he doted on how smart she was and how beautiful she was.  He and Mom came to see us in Jamaica, Virginia, and Holland.  He loved life and he loved experiencing events with our children.  He shared his love for history with them, wanted to see them excel in school, and mostly, enjoyed seeing them laugh.  

Dad was diagnosed with liver cancer in May of 2010.  He received radiation in June and July and began taking Nexavar in late June.  The side effects were worse on his liver than the disease, so he had to quit taking the drug after a few months.  The radiation retarded the growth of his tumors and gave him a respite for a few months.  In December, the cancer began to grow again and spread into his lungs.  The kids and I flew home on December 27th.  Dad was weak, but stood and greeted us that night.  Over the course of that week, he grew weaker, and required more assistance as he walked and moved.  Two weeks later, after having a port put into his side to drain the fluid, Dad's electrolyte levels became so mixed up that he began to take a turn for the worse.  Joe flew home on January 16th and stayed for a week.  He was able to visit with Dad and help him.  After a week, Joe took the kids back to Nairobi, and  over the course of the next week, Dad began to decline even more drastically. One night, Dad called me to his bed and said, "Alison, is everyone a Christian?"  I said, "Yes Dad.  All of our immediate family knows the Lord."  He said, "Good.  Does everyone have a place to sleep?"  I assured him we were all okay.

On Wednesday, he slipped into a coma, and we began singing to him.  My sister returned home from Texas and we were all there.  On Thursday morning, he rallied a bit and talked with us.  He told my mother he loved her, and puckered up for a kiss.  In the afternoon, he began to hurt and went back to sleep.  On Friday afternoon, my nephew returned from Vanderbilt and my Dad woke up and tried to shake his hand.  He could no longer speak in anything more than a whisper, though he tried.  Kramer told Dad about his classes and ended with, "I'm doing well Papaw."  My Dad whispered, "At a boy!"  to him.  Those were Dad's last words.  

On Saturday, we sat around him and sang old hymns to him.  At noon, I began to sing "Jesus Loves Me."  I noticed he wasn't breathing and told my sister.  She called everyone around his bed.  Everyone laid their hands on him and whispered that we loved him.  Dad took two more breaths and then went on to be with Jesus.  I will forever remember these last weeks with Dad, as we sang to him, loved on him, stroked his head and said our goodbyes.  

He will be forever missed.  I can feel his presence constantly and I can hear his words of encouragement.  I can hear him saying, "No more tears."  And I recall him touching Mary's cheeks tenderly on the morning she left, wiping away her tears, and saying, "I love you.  I love you so much.  Go to school and do well.  This is so important.  No more crying now."

Dad knew where he was going.  He had full assurance that he would be with Jesus soon.  He told my Mom on Saturday, January 15th that he'd talked with the Lord, and that the Lord told Dad He would give him more time, so he could tell Joe and Dave goodbye.  God honored that talk.  Dad had two more weeks before he went home to be with Jesus.  Our tears are for our own sadness and loss.  It seems we lost Dad so soon.  But, his memory and his life will never be in vain.  We shall all continue to proclaim, like the hymn we sang, "O for a Thousand tongues to sing...Blessed be the Name of the Lord!"

We love you Dad.