This week, Mom had another appointment at the wound center and, excellent news, the infected skin cancer excision that nearly took her down this past June is slowly closing up and looking fabulous. So fabulous, in fact, that her next appointment may be her last with them. “And what have we learned?” I asked her. “Not to let things go” Mom said. She had kept this infection under wraps last May, quietly hoping it would get better on its own. It didn’t. What resulted was a stint in the hospital and rehab facility that she affectionately refers to as the “nursing home”. Four months later, we are finally nearing recovery a whole year after the initial excision was done. Mom is both a tank and a trooper when it comes to injuries and setbacks. Suck it up and move on could be her motto.
Last night at dinner, we discussed Mom’s remarkable healing and then somehow got on the topic of the current social media trends among America’s youth. If you’re not aware, it is now popular to commit acts of theft and vandalism at schools all to be recorded on TikTok for likes and views. The trend has morphed into establishing themes, October being “Slap a staff member on the backside” month. “I don’t get it.” Mom said. I agreed “Neither do I.” “I mean, I could get it if you got a roll of stamps from it or a sticker. Well I guess a like is like a sticker.” she added. Approaching 87 this week, this woman is beyond wise and I absolutely love that she thinks getting a roll of stamps as a reward is appealing. I failed miserably at trying to explain why kids are so into TikTok and ended with “I’m just glad I was born in the 70s.” “Well, I’m glad I was born in the 30s.” Mom replied.
Later, as I thought about just how slow and messy Mom’s wound healing process was (it wasn’t pretty and I have photos to prove it), I drew a parallel between that and the healing of adolescents from the trauma of the past two years. These kids spent more than a year all holed up with their hormones, moods, and thoughts. All interactions were tinged with a fear of death or causing it; yes, even for the ones who seemingly didn’t care. Add to that all the social and racial discord and everything started to fester away just like that nasty wound on Mom’s leg—of course deviance was born. Let’s also not forget that these kids witnessed adults storming our government just 9 months ago because of all kinds of misguided interpretations of reality. If adults are doing that, “What is the purpose of anything anymore?” I imagine quite a few of them have asked just prior to their decision to vandalize and steal for TikTok views. We need to help these kids find purpose to life again and fast. How do we do that? By being loud and proud of what our purposes are. Here’s my attempt:
The last Christmas we spent on Kaua’i, Mom sent a package to me with a candle called “Home for the Holidays” that was scented like pine and cinnamon with a decorative wall plaque that said “Life takes you to unexpected places; love always brings you home.” This was after Mom’s lung cancer diagnosis and I think she had no time or patience for subtlety. Of course I cried when I opened it, the decision to move back was already being discussed anyways. We missed family, friends, and the familiar feel of the northern hemisphere. All it took was a false alarm of an incoming ballistic missile to seal the deal. Like magnets, we settled right back into life in Massachusetts. Somedays it is as if those two years away were a dream. Today, I woke in my childhood bedroom and now sit in my childhood living room in my childhood home and watch the leaves from my childhood trees begin to float down. This is the time of year that I missed most when living on Kaua’i. There, the seasonal shifts were different and never felt quite right to me; it was as if the island itself was telling me I was not home. My life here is far from perfect and I have many items still on my to-do list that I have not yet checked off. I’m clumsily yet actively working on that list. I came “home” because I saw more meaningful purpose here and, when everything came crashing down, that got me out of bed in the morning. My sense of purpose here, at home and at work, is a huge part of my warped sense of happiness. I hope I make that clear to these children of mine (biological and otherwise) every single day. I live and act on purpose. Deviance can and will alter course if inspired and redirected. That is not just my hope, it is my belief.I deviated and here I am again. See? Inspired redirection with purpose.
I walked outside this morning and looked up at my favorite pine in our backyard. I wanted to climb it just to feel the soft sharpness of the needles and to smell its sap; I wanted to give it a hug but stopped myself so the neighbors wouldn’t start to whisper. I like to think of this one as the mother of all the pines that surround my home. It’s bigger than all the others and serves as the base for the now defunct zipline. I shuffled to the front lawn, my Mama Elf slippers getting wet from the morning dew. I squinted through the bright morning sun to admire our pear tree. Right after the country shut down for Covid, we had an awful wind and rain storm that split this tree right in two. Our neighbor helped us cut up the section that had fallen onto the lawn with his chainsaw and offered to cut down the part that was still standing. A sucker for trees, I told him that I wanted to leave it up and see what it does.
Now, two years later, that tree is flourishing ever so quirkily. “It’s a metaphor for my marriage” I said to my neighbor when he marveled at its lopsided perseverance. He laughed because, let’s face it, that’s a good one. Existing on the same plot of earth, I think these two trees are more than just metaphors. Despite all that happens to and around them, they still stand firmly in their ground and flourish. If trees could talk, these two would have a lot to say. Alas, they cannot and must speak only through awkwardly flaunting their quirks and strengths to anyone who cares to look. Their purpose, emblematic of our own, will continue to inspire me in the face of adversity and discord. As much as I would like to round up all of America’s youth and set my Mom with a mic in front of them to drop unfiltered and giftwrapped pieces of her mind, I don’t think that is likely to happen and TikTok will take this licking and just keep ticking until the next thing comes along. So, I say “Go hug a tree” to my students instead, telling them that the practice helps lower stress. They looked at me like I was crazy and that’s exactly the look I was aiming for. You know what? I bet more than a handful of them took my advice. Maybe that will make just enough of a difference.