Amanda-Leigh and Arthur Miller

One big blanket of snow painted the ground yesterday morning. This morning, nothing except dew will be left. As an older woman, I don’t find myself wanting to lay down in the snow and making angels anymore. I find myself inside my home enjoying the romance of the natural world outside. I am able to know better than to roll outside in the snow and ice. I do not have a purpose being outside in the bad weather the way of a child.

I have two new library books to read. This morning my focus is on the first. This library book is Arthur Miller: His Life and Work by Martin Gottfried. Arthur Miller’s cover has an older gentleman sitting on the steps of a stage. There are no lights or actors present. Only Miller sits in his spiffy dress shoes, a business suit, a white shirt, and a tie. His eyes are looking straight at the camera. With the passing of time, Miller’s hair has thinned out. He must wear thick glasses.

Looking at this picture, a readers hopes the stage experience to be productive. From personal experience reading Death of A Salesman in a literature course several years ago, I understood the man and woman. As a truck driver, Willy Loman spent years on the road traveling to provide finances for his wife and their two sons. This traveling salesman was not able to be the active husband or father his family needed. The American dream was impounded into Willy Loman’s veins. He wanted to have a nice house for his family. This unselfish act led me to write a poem at the time. I have lost the poem, but I remember gutting every feeling until I came to the core. This was the heart of the play.

I understood that a man needed to leave his family to gain independence and respect in order to provide well.  This did leave the wife and sons with feelings of abandonment. Their traveling salesman missed out on watching his two sons grow and mature. This play was written and produced before cell phones, text messages, and picture messages were thought about. Mr. Loman did not have a way to watch his son’s first baseball games or sit beside them at night to go over homework. The wife, Linda, missed having her husband at home. She raised two boys independently. If Mrs. Loman wanted to work, who would have watched her sons? At this time, Mrs. Loman did not have the power in her household to express her concerns, need to have a life independent of the home, or the strong voice women have today.

Why did Linda Loman stay in a marriage that did not show respect for the woman? What modern woman would want to be in such bondage and chains? Being married should not be this complicated for a woman. A woman should be able to freely express herself and her desires of entering the natural world independently. The woman does not leave the household the way Nora did in A Doll’s House.

The two female literary characters are opposite in character. Nora is a younger version of Linda Loman. Nora’s husband is not a traveling salesman. In fact, her husband is wealthy financially. I found Torvad to be verbally abusive the way he spoke to Nora. He was condescending and belittled her every chance he could. Nora’s character is not as tolerant of the man. As a young woman with small children, Nora makes the decision to leave at the end.

Each time I think of Nora leaving the home and stating her independence, I think of my first marriage. Eleven years have passed since I left on October 28, 2002. Not a day passes where I regret that wise move. Being married to a man who only wanted the flesh was not a good feeling to have. I deserved to be respected. I deserved to be loved for the woman I was. This led me to leave. My heart was broken in my marriage. As time passed, I began to think about Nora and what she put up with. That led me to realize I could do better. I did not need to be like Mrs. Loman who sat back and watched her husband leave a little more each time he traveled the roads.

When I reflect on Death of A Salesman, I try to imagine a scene where Willy Loman realizes he should not pull out of his driveway. Rather, he realizes his family comes first. Something stops Mr. Loman from leaving. He realizes the years he missed raising his two sons who are now grown. He realizes his wife’s hair has turned gray and she never lets it down anymore. He realizes life is too short to be traveling. He has no time for this dead-end life anymore. He gets out of the vehicle and goes inside his home to tell his wife everything he has discovered.

A man sits on the steps of a stage. No actors are present. No audience is there. A playwright sits on the steps. This playwright is looking at the camera. A half smile is present on his face. This is what readers walk away with. We walk away with the powerful words and images from a man who was able to experience the entire richness of the American dream. This man basked in its divine glory. There were no words left unsaid for the playwright. The reader is ready to open the cover and begin reading who this playwright really was. Was he written into any of his plays?  If so, which literary character best describes his real life? How will readers be able to distinguish this from fiction to fact? Does this playwright have room beside him for a ballerina with her dancing slippers? If a mood shoots me on target with an arrow, I can be a willing literary character who would love to be on the stage with such greatness and literary excitement. I hope this biography will feed my hungry taste buds and not leave me starving .

Amanda-Leigh and the Great Act of Humanity

My faith in humankind was restored last night. I was able to sleep better. Earlier in the afternoon, my sleep medicine fell out of my husband’s coat pocket. Since the weather had turned from nice to nasty, my husband wanted me to stay inside our home while he went to the closest pharmacy to get my refill of Sonata. This unfortunate experience caused our tempers to flare up at each other and utter chaos.

My husband searched his coat pockets. I then searched his coat pockets. After awhile, I could picture myself on every news station and inside every media outlet in our state. The headline would read Woman with a Physical Disability Arrested on Distribution Charges. This created anxiety for me since my name and address were on the outside label. Thankfully the pharmacy was out of an entire month’s supply of Sonata and only five pills were inside. This turned out to be a miracle in my defense. This meant if the medication had been picked up by the wrong hands, I would still be able to have a refill on Friday.

My husband reported the missing medication to the pharmacy. An employee promised to call him if the medication was returned. After a couple hours, my husband received the phone call. Somebody had found my medicine on the ground in the grocery section. This seemed unbelievable in this day and age. The honesty of the person was admirable. I felt extremely grateful God put my medication in the right hands. The opposite has been featured in our news media too much. A miracle this great does not happen too often. Too often, a prescription falls into the wrong hands. This is what the media covers.

What the media fails to cover are people like me who have prescriptions returned. The negative effect of not having the prescription to me would have meant endless nights of not having enough sleep. I would have had to sleep in the daytime. I would not have been able to meet my daily goal of exercising to keep blood clots away. I would have been moody with my husband. I would have faced being a victim of a criminal act. I would have had to live with the fact that the medication could have possibly hurt somebody else’s life by unintentionally feeding their prescription addiction.

What I am grateful for the most in this happy ending is the fact that the Good Samaritan exhibited a good moral characteristic. Being an honest person is something to be admired. I admire this nameless person for restoring a sense of humanity. As I mentioned before, I was able to sleep better. I was also to pray thanksgiving to God. As much as I try to imagine who the person was, I am still unable to. What I do know is this: we need more wonderful people in our modern world! God bless this person! May your kindness, honesty, mirth, and love of mankind continue on until the day you can no longer breath. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Amanda-Leigh's Web Link for Tuesday:

Sermons from the First United Methodist Church of Stillwater, Oklahoma

 http://fumcstw.org/sermons

(Personal Note)

As I have listened to these sermons, I have learned more than words will ever be able to describe. The sermon from this past Sunday spoken by Bishop Robert Hayes, Jr. included Mark Twain, Helen Keller, and Dr. Pepper. Literature, a great female advocate for people with physical disabilities, and my old favorite drink were wrapped up into one great sermon! This sermon should be posted on the site soon. Please enjoy these sermons. I sure do!

Amanda-Leigh and the Simple Truth About Employment

 In our nation’s history, strong literary female figures such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Louisa May Alcott, Susan B. Anthony, and several others paved the way for the success of our modern women. I did not feel Marjorie Worthington's biography provided a thorough look into the life of Louisa May Alcott. The central theme seemed to be debt. This young independent woman relied on her family to resuscitate her family from financial debt. L.M. provided the financial support her younger sister, May, needed to attend college abroad in Europe. At times, L.M. took care of an ailing mother and an older sister named named Anna who was legally deaf by modern standards. The importance of work ethics L.M. exhibited was one thing I was able to appreciate about the biography.

Last night, my husband received his two year gold chip in Celebrated Recovery. My husband has been out of the hospital for two years. I refuse to reflect on two years ago with my husband’s mental state of mind. I will, however, comment that my husband has advanced greatly over the past few months. My husband is seeing the psychiatrist he had during our college years. This has been beneficial to my husband’s mental health. The doctor has an established history of knowing how my husband reacts to medications. This relationship has also benefitted in our marriage. We have more stability than a year ago.

A year ago, my husband had to take the Greyhound bus to our state capitol just to receive treatment for his mental illness. This was not fair to my husband or our marriage. There is a small mental health clinic in our town but the counselors only have limited education. These people do not have Master’s or Doctorate degrees. The psychiatrist visits every once in awhile. My husband and I made the decision to deny services from the clinic. I am glad we were able to walk away instead of getting ourselves into a bad situation.

This morning I read in the Huffington Post where the Republican governor of South Dakota is trying to implement a program that will promote jobs for people with disabilities. This is not a reasonable move. In our world and especially with the condition of our economy, several groups of Americans are unable to find employment. Why should this Governor zone in on one group? Since this Governor is not a person with a disability, he has no idea what challenges we face with seeking employment. Granted, this Governor does bring an awareness that his parents were physically disabled. This awareness does not mean the Governor’s parents are actively employed in our modern time. This Governor does not spend hours with those of us who have cried over being turned down for jobs we are better qualified than the majority of candidates. We would not engage ourselves in white collar crimes the way some employers must deal with. We would not engage ourselves in social media scandals by posting pictures of us wearing raunchy clothes and behaving dumb. We are the ones who get overlooked too much by our world.

I will give this Governor credit where credit is due. I appreciate the Governor’s desire to promote jobs for people with disabilities. We do not appreciate being turned down because of our disabilities. We do not appreciate taking the time to get dressed up for a job interview only to be turned down for a candidate who did not take the time to care. We may seem bitter and full of self-pity. This is hardly the case. We know when we are not wanted and we refuse to let ourselves get hurt. We are missed opportunities, and this is exactly how we should feel about ourselves. We can do much better than sit around waiting on phone calls that never happen. We deserve to be appreciated, and this is one thing lacking from potential employers. We are not fully appreciated for taking the time to apply for a job and getting groomed nicely for our interviews. We are able to pull our weight and uphold our end of the bargain. Will this Governor’s proposed plan provide the other half from the employer? If not, the proposal is moot and will fail miserably in his society.   

Amanda-Leigh's Web Link for Monday:

Governor Pushed to Implement Job Programs for People with Disabilities

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/02/24/jobs-for-people-with-disabilities_n_2754163.html?1361732704&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009

   

Amanda-Leigh and the Lovely Alcotts

A few days have passed since I have composed morning writings on here. For this, I sincerely apologize. The week began with a visit to my doctor for a lump inside my stomach originating from my battle with blood clots. How can a woman fully open up about those feelings with the world right away? As much as a woman tries to escape a battle with blood clots, the harsh reality will always exist. No matter how much I have tried to become independent of my health problems, they will continue to exist. I am not completely independent of blood clots and probably never will be.

At my doctor’s appointment, I learned I had scar tissue from the Lovenox shots injected in my lower abdomen twice a day during my three hospital stays from July 23, 2010, September 13, 2010, and January 23, 2011. In most cases, the blood vessels break up within a few months instead of being in one big clump. My case can be considered rare. My doctor had not seen this before, and she told me to report any pain or swelling if it happens. I agreed to do this.

After Tuesday’s beautiful weather, all havoc broke loose from above. That’s right, for the next two days, our yards were covered in solid sheets of snow. Even today, my faithful Weatherbug is warning me about a winter advisory. The weather may be frightful but the weather inside is delightful. Since yesterday morning, I have felt extremely cheerful and happier.

I had been “patiently” waiting on the acceptance letter from the college I chose to apply to in my state. The timing this letter arrived could not have been more perfect! Yesterday I needed divine love, and this arrived in the form of an acceptance letter. I will be able to enroll for the summer semester on April fourth. An e-mail address was provided in the letter to get in contact for an Academic Advisor for online courses. This news flew pretty fast thanks to a social networking site. Pretty soon I had likes on the status and picture of the acceptance letter. This made not being able to get outside easier for me to handle.

I also received my pink ballet shoes in the mail yesterday. My burgundy leotard should arrive today. When I think about dancing, I don’t do so with any physical limitations. I may have a history with blood clots, but this does not define the woman God made me. Thinking about how independent and flexible dancers are provides a sense of hope for my own life. The way dancers can do splits in the air and tumbles never ceases to amaze me. There is a unique style dancers carry out that makes a person wonder how this language was created. This is a language of character as well. Character was once instilled in these dancers early on in their lives. Character was shaped on the love of an art. In this case, the art happens to be dancing. If this character and love had not been nourished by faithful attendance, the art would be non-existent in modernism. Women like me are able to enjoy and appreciate dedication and hard work involved with dancing.

This is the way I view my own love, which is literature. With snow falling outside, inside I finished reading Miss Alcott of Concord by Marjorie Worthington. Worthington provides a wealth of knowledge over Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Transcendentalism movement in literature, the anti-slavery movement in American history, and the life of Louisa May Alcott. Still, I am not too fond of Worthington as a writer. In the reader’s role, I felt uncomfortable throughout the entire story. It took every ounce of patience I had to finish the book. If I was not a big fan of Louisa May Alcott, no energy would have been spent continuing on the journey.

The first disagreement I find with Worthington's book are the extremely offensive terms invalidism and cripple. These terms are used in Worthington’s book. To clarify, these terms are degrading to people with physical and mental disabilities. When used, there is a stigma that places every person into one simple category. We are not invalids. We are not bedridden for the most part, and those who are should not be looked down on. We are not crippled either. We have hopes, dreams, and goals just like everybody else who walks this Earth. We are able to live independent lives. if anybody feels burdened by our presence, then we do not need each other. This is how I feel about Worthington’s misguided use of these degrading terms. I do not feel the need to explain further as the subject upsets me. We have advanced from being locked in closets and hidden from society.

 Another thing I disagree with is Worthington’s continued degradation of Bronson Alcott. When I read this biography, I get the uncomfortable feeling Worthington does not value the unsuccessful man who struggles each day to survive. More emphasis is given to the relationship between Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott. When Louisa May Alcott became ill with typhoid pneumonia at Union Hospital in Washington D.C., Bronson Alcott traveled the distance to take her home. As a career, Mr. Alcott travels the countryside lecturing and advocating for education. Mr. Alcott does forget the needs of his girls at home. The way Worthington portrays Mr. Alcott is anti-man. The message being sent is that we should look down on this man because he did not provide well financially. Mr. Emerson’s financial wealth provided the majority of the Alcott’s needs. Was Mr. Alcott the only man in America who had to rely on traveling for employment? I do not feel Worthington shows mercy on Mr. Alcott's character nor does she depict his role of a man with the justice he deserved. Could Mr. Alcott's nomadic ways and giving up his money to everybody else have been signs he lived with a mental illness as a theory for the famous Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy? 

 I also get the impression Worthington thinks Louisa May Alcott would have been better off being born an Emerson than an Alcott because of this reason alone. In this biography, not much history is provided on Bronson Alcott’s parents or Abigail May Alcott’s parents. Mr. Alcott’s mother is sprung on readers the way a baby is in Charlotte Perkins Gillman's "The Yellow Wallpaper.” Does Mr. Alcott stay with his mother when he travels to lecture? We are disappointed readers as we are not well-informed about Mr. Alcott’s published books. Again, more emphasis is placed on the literary success of Mr. Emerson along with Nathaniel Hawthorne. This is disappointing since Mr. Alcott fathered Louisa May and nurtured her education. Mr. Alcott and Louisa May were born on November 29th and passed away two days apart in March 1888. This must prove the pair really did share a special bond. 

I hope everybody stays warm today. I am enjoying the moods of wintertime. This takes me back to the first stories I read as a child. I remember with fondness. Winter can be a dreary time for most people, especially those who are also in my situation. What keeps me going is realizing that tomorrow’s weather may be nice and sunny. Spring and summer will be here soon. We won’t be able to enjoy the winter as we do now.