Happiness Gauge

How can the people around you tell if you are happy? What do you use for a happiness gauge?

For me, if I'm singing while I work in the kitchen, or while I'm driving, you can tell I'm happy.

I caught myself singing today. I was on my way to the grocery store, and I was singing. What was I singing? I can't recall.

On the way home I was singing an old song with it's roots in the worry of the Mamas of Irish lads who went to war.

"Oh Mrs McGraw," the sergeant said, "would you like to make a soldier out of your son Ted,
With a scarlet cloak and a big cocked hat, oh, Mrs McGraw, wouldn't you like that?"
With your too rye ah, fa the diddle ah, too rye, too rye too rye ah
With your too rye ah, fa the diddle ah, too rye, ooh rye ooh rye ah
Lav beg the cracker oh!

I don't suppose it really matters what I am singing, but the fact that I am singing is note worthy.

Years and years ago, when I would sing in the cars, my kids wished I would not. On one occasion, one of the girls went so far as to threaten to jump out of the car while it was moving if I did not cease my singing.

SNC's version of Twelve days of Christmas

I ran across a link for this at one of the message boards I visit (thanks ladies) and I'd like to share this with you. It's a really cute and well executed diversion of a song that can get tedious, long and boring.

Do or Not Do, There is no Try

To quote Yoda, there is no try, either you do something, or you don't do it.

Me, I sometimes make an attempt, fall short, scrap it, and make another attempt. Sometimes I don't scrap what I consider yet another unsuccessful attempt, and the not me portion of the world thinks it's OK. That always surprises me. But I digress.

In my case, I guess I am not doing. *sigh*

Writing is not coming easily to me now. Maybe there is too much to say, too many topics to choose from, too little motivation to just PICK ONE and write about it. I can't pick just one reason, or one theme/topic/subject.

Husband and I are going to the 9th Annual National Children's Memorial Day Candle Lighting Ceremony on Sunday. I'm looking forward to another formal remembrance for Margret.

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And now for something completely different:

BILL are a band in the Boston area. I found mention of them on Unringing the Bell. Thanks Tricia.

They even have a MySpace page with some music playing on it.

But what, you ask, is so special about this band that you post about it in your Margret space?

Firstly, the lead singer has Down syndrome.

Yup.

Secondly, he isn't some adorable little kid. He and his brother are men, in their forties.

It's different for me to think of a man with DS as the front man for a band. Margret liked music well enough, but her singing was not great, definitely not front man quality. Mine isn't either, but that is another story.

Here we have yet another career open to persons with the inclination to pursue it, whether they have the normal count of chromosomes, or whether they have an additional one in the 21 set.

Livin La Vida Loca, or Margret in New York City

One of Margret's desires was to go see a live concert by her favorite singer. We did that. And here is photographic proof. Note: Margret did not normally use a wheelchair. The distances we intended to cover on foot in the city, and at the speed we intended to travel, she would have been exhausted and miserable, so I rented one. The folks at the rental place cheerfully added holders for TWO oxygen tanks on the back, so we had the one in use, and a spare. Thanks guys!

Margret got to see Times Square in the rain. Not exactly dancing in the rain, but you are encouraged to use your imagination.

She got to see a police man riding his horse.


She went sight seeing on the Sightseeing bus.
She got to look down from the Empire State Building to see the world spread out below her
but she much preferred being inside the gift shop, picking out something to bring home and gift to her friends.

She got to tour Radio City Music Hall

She got to pose with a real Rockette.

Margret got to see her favorite Latin singer at Radio City Music Hall. Live and in concert. She was thrilled.and to visit, and pose, with other Ricky Martin fans.

Margret and Frank Sinatra

Margret and Frank Sinatra. I'd never thought they had much in common, if I thought about it at all, which I don't think I did. *wrinkling brow while trying to decide if that made any sense*

Today, reading over the lyric for My Way, I see they had quite a bit in common. Margret lived a full life:

She got to see Ricky Martin live in concert at Radio City Music Hall, and from great seats.
She and I did a road trip, by car, to Oklahoma to visit her little sister and her niece and nephews. We had a great time.
She enjoyed time spent with her little cousins and nieces and nephews at Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings.
She got to go out with her respite person, to do dinner and a movie, or go shopping, or whatever else she desired that they could fit into an evening.
Over the course of her life she had a job or two.
She volunteered.
She enjoyed friends and family.
She liked food, and loved to have take away, or eat out at a restaurant.
She liked to be tucked in at night. We exchanged hugs and kisses, and "I love you"s.

Regrets? Yes, I think she had a few, but small ones given all else she had to cope with.
She wanted to marry and have children of her own, but that was not to be.
She wanted to go on a cruise, but I hadn't got all the logistics worked out in time.
She wanted to spend more time with her sister's babies, but they lived on the other side of the continent, so we did the best we could when we had the opportunity.

I tried to help her make her life as full and happy as possible. And I think I succeeded. Mostly. Because when all was said and done, she was an adult, and felt the things she did because she was herself, and responsible to herself. *Did that make any sense? I hope so.*

For my own self, I can say "Regrets, I have a few, but they're small." The big things, like knowing she knew she was loved, and knowing she knew she could depend on me to help the best I could, those are covered. I did my best. I only hope it was good enough.


My Way
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, Ill say it clear,
Ill state my case, of which Im certain.

Ive lived a life thats full.
Ive traveled each and evry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, Im sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

Ive loved, Ive laughed and cried.
Ive had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!

(my thanks to Lyricsfreak dot com for these lyrics)

Time to Remember and Give Thanks

Husband and I went to a memorial service in September for parents/families of children who died. Held in the auditorium at the hospital, it was beautiful, moving, and I cried lots. The registration table held many many individual packs of tissues as well as the registration materials. These people were ready for me.

The program artwork featured butterflies and dragonflies, with a poem on the inner cover that set me sobbing just reading it through:

Like the butterfly who lights beside us
like a sunbeam -
for a brief moment
its glory and beauty
belong to our world -
but then it flies on again.

And though we wish it could have stayed
we are so thankful to have seen it.

There was music played by hospital staff - cello, violin, keyboard and 2 voices - doctor, security guard, and 3 music therapists, more music - by Hugworks, Jim Newton and Paul G. Hill, a welcome by the bereavement coordinator, a Call to Remember, read by a chaplain, "I Believe" performed by Hugworks, a physician's tribute read by one of the doctors, "I Know Your Names"

Then the remembrance, where a staff person read names while pictures were projected on the screen at the front. The names were in groups of 10. The photos showed the children... the smallest a tiny tiny premie whose hand was maybe the size of a quarter, fingers wrapped around his daddy's index finger, the oldest my Margret.

My husband sat next to me, but on my other side, I sat next to a girl of about 7 or 8 years. She had been sitting with her Grammy and Mom in the row behind, but moved forward a row to sit next to her cousin. Her baby brother was among the lost. When his name was read, both she and her mother screamed and cried aloud. I patted her back, and gave her a tissue. When tears ran freely down my cheeks at my daughter's photo and name, she patted my knee and whispered to me, "Don't cry, you'll be OK."

After the names came a reading of "We Remember Them", from Gates of Prayer, "If I Could" performed by Hugworks, a reading of "Waterbugs and Dragonflies" a story of metamorphosis

Afterwards, there were helium filled butterfly balloons, was space where the parents could get together and talk, and have coffee and snacks. I chatted with the mothers of two young ladies who died of cancer, ages 22 and 23.

I tried to write about the memorial before, and kept dissolving into tears. It didn't help me that husband found the particular arrangement of Over the Rainbow/Wonderful world medley that they did - it's on youtube, by Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole - and played it multiple times. (probably because there are many versions of it on youtube) It's beautiful, but it makes me cry. Here are a couple versions...

http://youtube.com/watch?v=PL-uL2M3xvM

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Hh2vre3YwM4

Bitter Sweet Celebration

We chose to call it a Celebration of Life instead of a Funeral.

Her sisters went shopping to buy her last party dress. They succeeded, although mid July is not the best time to be hunting a prom gown. The dress they found was hot pink, floor length, with spaghetti straps, and decorated with swirls of beads and sequins. Had this been chosen for a normal event, the dress would need to be shortened by more than a foot, for Margret was only four feet eight inches tall. In this instance, in the creative hands of our funeral director, the excess length became long sleeves, and the beaded portion filled in between the top of the dress and the sleeves.

We planned bright colored flowers and had balloons in pink, orange and yellow that echoed the flower colors. For background music I made a cd including her favorite artists, Hanna Montana, Billy Ray Cyrus, Ricky Martin, Maná. Her youngest sister requested tracks by the Marshall Family; Dad asked for Livin' La Vida Loca, because it every time he heard it, it reminded him of her and how she was so willing to dance. I picked Eres Mi Religión by Maná, and Ángel by Cristian Castro, among others, because she so enjoyed listening when I played music of that sort on the Latin Beat. Sisters B and C each picked a song that brought her to their minds.

As part of the service, attendees were encouraged to come forward and share their unique memories of Margret with the rest of us. Seventeen people overcame their reluctance to speak off the cuff, and shared. An astounding number!

C lent her video camera to Margret's oldest niece, so there would be a record of the celebration to share with family members who could not join us. She did a fine job.

Although C arranged for me to watch the tape, I could not bring myself to do so for weeks. I watched the video, finally, a couple nights ago. I experienced relief, and a deep appreciation for everyone who braved the discomfort of speaking in front of a group. I transcribed one of the memories that moved me most to share with you, only leaving out some 'and's, and a bit that I could not hear well.

F speaks on Margret

My last memory of Margret was at B's Octoberfest. She gave me a hard time because she thought I was flirting with C. She in no uncertain terms told that that was HER sister and I was not allowed to have her. I think she was teasing me. She also ribbed my brother about it and he was very confused. She had a funny sense of humor that way.

I've known C since I was 5 . . .

I've known the M family, all encompassing, as it has changed throughout the years, and I always remember Margret,

and if the M family is like a light house showing love, no matter what situation happened there was always love, Margret was the beacon, at the top.

She was the bright light that you always gravitated to; you always felt good around her.

I can think back to even when I was a child, hanging with C (when she wasn't being bad),
she was there, and she was smiling, and she was laughing, and always joking around, wanting to do something and be involved.

I think we should take from that as a lesson on how to live - a lot of times we let the stressors of our life take us over,

I think sometimes we should stop and think about Margret and how she enjoyed every moment , no matter what it was, . . . she made something positive out of it, and it made everyone
around them feel that much better, and so LOVE's the word.
it will carry on through each and every person who she has touched because you can't have a memory of her and not think happiness and not think love.

So, in the words of Jonathan Larsen, "Live like there is no day but today."