"I'd be lost . . . ."

My friend JoAnn and I went to see Winter's Bone yesterday at our art theater in Little Rock. I was interested in seeing the visual presentation of the film since my son and I had read the novel by Daniel Woodrell several years before. I have always loved the line from the book when Ree Dolly states to her younger brother and sister, "I'd be lost without you two on my back." Once more I find myself thinking about the dilemma that some children confront when they are responsible for younger siblings themselves.

The film is set in Southwest Missouri in the rural backwoods. It could almost be anywhere else as well, especially in Faulknerian Mississippi. Ree is a teenager forced to drop out of school and surrender her plans to join the army when her addicted-to-meth father disappears. Her mother is incapacitated, unable to speak anymore, and her twelve-year-old brother Sonny and six-year-old sister Ashley depend upon her for their daily sustenance. The conflict arrives when we learn Ree's father will likely miss his hearing with the judge, and the family will lose its little shack and the land connected with it. Ree faces the choice of farming out her younger siblings to other despicable relatives or giving up her dream of escaping her situation.

Again I remember my own childhood with an addicted, absentee father, a practically incapacitated mother, an inner city environment, and my own responsible sister cooking and cleaning and teaching moral lessons to me. Again I ask the question, "What gives children the tenacity to 'step up to the plate' rather than surrender to the enormity of it all?" In the film, Ree consistently is able to say "no" to multiple offerings of drugs herself. Perhaps she had just seen enough to know she did not want that life for herself. My sister and I both did as well.

The Cushion

The summer haze and humidity bore down on me like an anchor pulling me down into the earthy-smelling ground. I walked the usual path in Northwest Arkansas after a five inch rain the night before punctuated by numerous lightning strikes close to our house and continual torrents of rain. I glanced over on Old Depot St. to my left and saw a house built most likely in the early 1960's. The yard was cluttered with old cars and children's toys. One of the old vehicles had a crutch propped against its side. In the backyard I could see a rusting aluminum lawn chair that was popular in the 1950's sitting under a large oak tree and in front of a small swing set, also rusting, for children. I wondered if several generations of families were living there. In my mind, I could see a grandmother like me watching the youngsters play while their working class mother was likely in the kitchen making a meal for everyone.

It appears in some ways we have come full circle in our society, and due to the Great Recession of the past few years, many families are now living together again as an extended family. Personally, I know of several who are the "cushion" for their aging parents and young children. A friend in my book club on Wednesday provides care for her mother who lives downstairs, providing food and chauffeur services to doctors' appointments, while also caring for two active elementary-age sons. My best friend in Northwest Arkansas works full-time and cares for her aging mother, still living independently, but needing lots of assistance. The mother has never learned to drive and must be taken out for her groceries, errands, hair appointments, etc. At the same time, my friend provides after-school care and week-end care for her middle school grandson each day of the week. In our family, my brother-in-law provides caregiving for his and my husband's ninety-three year old father. Though he lives in an assisted-living facility in Wichita, he still needs to be driven to all his doctors' appointments and given care through his numerous health-care crises.

The "cushioners" need a lot of support as they care for aging parents. We are simply living longer and longer compared to generations past. I heard on NPR just last week that if one reaches age sixty-five in relatively good health, he or she is likely to live until 82. The surviving spouse in the relationship thereafter is likely to live until 90 or older. We simply ask that God bless us all, but God help us all in these hard times.

Traveling With a Twilighter

Last week the whole family, including our son and our grandchildren Caitlyn (11) and Charlie (7) took a trip to Seattle and Victoria, B.C. The purpose was primarily to visit our daughter and her son Cole (5). Another very important goal, however, for our granddaughter was to go to the locations that the films in the Twilight series were shot. The day trip was to stop in Port Angeles where Bella and Edward had their first date by eating at the Bella Italia. Later we would visit Forks, Washington, where Bella and Edward met in high school, see the baseball field where the vampires fight the werewolves, see Bella's house and red truck, and walk on the beautiful Pacific Coast beach of La Push. The next night Caitlyn was to see the midnight premiere of the third film, Eclipse. The rest of the family simply went along for the ride.

I am trying to remember my life as an eleven year old when I hear Caitlyn read from her famous quotes book from The Clique series of books and movies, statements like "Ugly girls should stay inside." Her own original quote on this vacation, hopefully just as satiric as the previous one, is "Life is full of disappointments; I didn't get a sausage biscuit today." As I compare my life with Caitlyn's, I realize what a privileged life she lives. The only birthday party I ever had was celebrated my 11th year with a cookout at the Indian mounds in Greenville, Mississippi. One of my mother's current boyfriends, Joe, helped to pay for it; and we celebrated jointly with a friend who was born one day after I was.

I long to know how Caitlyn's life will go. Will she always been as self-absorbed as she is now? Every act is dramatic it seems, yet there are moments of incredible generosity hidden among many selfish acts. She gives us money when we are struggling to pay a small bill with cash; she takes cheese from her tacos and puts it on her brother's taco when he gets none on his; she, in essence, shows us occasional glimpses of her humanity. I remember Paul McCartney's interview a number of years ago when asked by an interviewer what he hoped for his children. He responded by saying simply, "It was always Linda's and my hope that our children would have good hearts." I concur.