Tuesday, February 15, 2022

“Losing Louise”

Aunt Louise in 1949!


            Every few months, I contacted my Aunt Louise. Sometimes it’s a quick letter posted with a nice card. Most of the time, it’s a phone call. If there’s any kind of weather system heading to any corner of Texas, she’d initiate the contact to make certain none of her Texas relatives had blown or floated away. I often called her around Mom’s birthday in January and her own birthday in July. Over the past year, my calls to Aunt Louise became a series of messages left on her answering machine. Sometimes it was full, but most of the time I could leave requests that she call me. Around her birthday, I decided to send a letter because I worried about her health as she was 94. When the letter came back with addressee unknown, I decided to contact my cousin in Illinois since he often visited Aunt Louise. My aunt lived in a retirement area that allowed her to move from independent living in an apartment to assisted living and nursing care if needed. I thought she must have shifted to a higher care facility without anyone contacting me.

            Reaching my cousin, though, proved difficult. His landline, in a home he’d lived in for more than sixty years, was disconnected. I did a quick online search and found his obituary for August 2020. I later learned he died of COVID-19.  I tracked down his son, who I’ve not seen since we were very young children, to learn that he could access Aunt Louise’s information once he finished moving into his dad’s home. This was during the summer of 2021, and I let it ride because grief laced every word my cousin spoke. He assured me that he’d get Aunt Louise’s new contact information to me.

            In December, I received a phone call from someone I didn’t know. He stated that he’s the executor of Aunt Louise’s estate, and she’d died in November. He asked for my email information and cell number, which I gave him. He requested contact information for my siblings, too. He sent a few emails with information on the VA cemetery and the estate sale he’s having next week. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I received an anxious call from my cousin’s daughter because she hadn’t reached Aunt Louise and hit a block when talking with the nursing home personnel. She only had my number because I’d left it with her brother. She had more frequent contact with my aunt and was upset because no one from the facility had contacted her about Aunt Louise’s death. As she was executor of the estate, she was really worried when I told her someone else had contacted me! I learned quickly that she’s a focused and fiercely loyal advocate for Aunt Louise. She made phone calls and sent emails, demanded to see the will that this other man claimed to have, and let me know that he’s legitimate.  She let me know that Aunt Louise left money in a trust, but I worry more about tracking down any photographs and personal items that found their way to storage. This weekend, there will be a sale of her household goods, and the executor of her estate assured me that he’d hunt for family photographs and send them on to me. We have so little from Mom’s childhood and teen years because she spent nine years in foster care. Maybe Aunt Louise had a box of memories and mementos that will allow us to find both her and Mom again.

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

             

 

Thursday, February 10, 2022

“Practice Grace”


            Every day, our national news spotlights an ugly side of our country. Too many people in power who want to kill rational thinking by directing attention to fears to control our dialogues. Their rhetoric feed negative and dreadful constructs. Daily, they drone on and on against diversity in thought and deed. They expertly played a long game by infiltrating local school boards and subverting local communities. Their grass roots movement now bears malignant, poisonous fruit. The end result indoctrinated entire sections of our culture to fear and hate.

            Yesterday, I briefly visited a family member whose husband died in December from COVID-19. He believed the propaganda that COVID-19 was nothing worse than the flu. He spouted their words about masking blocking his individual rights. He refused vaccination even when his wife and children received their own shots. He believed their cancerous disinformation. His COVID-19 battle started in July, with months of hospitalization and then a shift to a rehabilitation facility. When his insurance ran out, he came home to die.

            All I could think of on my walk home was that he’d been killed by dangerous opinions. How did we get to this point as a society?

            We stumbled somehow onto a path that doesn’t practice grace. We’re mired in muck that no longer allows for kindness, mercy or decency. I don’t know how to wash away the filth.

 


Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

Wednesday, February 9, 2022

“Old Friends and New Disappointments”


            The responses of various friends to national and world events have left me disillusioned. Did I ever know the true spirit of woman who sits in mass daily and yet defends the attack on the Capitol? Did I misjudge the friend who insists her right to refuse to mask and vaccinate during this pandemic outweighs my rights to stay healthy? Did I naively trust the man who now insists he must own and display an AR-15 when I visit?

            Have these people always been so different from my vision of them, and have they donned masks throughout our years of friendship? Or have they changed without my noticing? Can these relationships recover, or will these disappointments color our interactions from now on?

            Already, there’s less contact initiated by these friends towards me because I know the insurrection at the Capitol endangers our democracy even as those supporters of our former president defend The Big Lie more than a year later. I encourage everyone to get vaccinated for COVID-19, wear masks, and social distance because it’s the moral choice for not just our country, but for the world. I cannot “un-see” the photographs of my friends and family arming for a war that they aspire to begin.

 




Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Tuesday, February 8, 2022

“Something to Prove”

 

unnatural competition
sibling rivalries created and nurtured
by narcissistic manipulations
the alcoholic mother and enabling father
doling out love to the winners
the challenge evolves
 to plastic wives and drunken children
awards for misogyny and adultery
applause for cheats
 and deceits
victory gained
by zealous clannish unity
that punishes the different drummer
with ostracism and disdain
darkness shadows each generation
with something to prove

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman  


Monday, February 7, 2022

“Happy Call”


            When my phone rang early on Saturday morning, and I saw it was my brother, I hesitated before answering. The first thought hitting my brain went straight to, “What’s wrong now?” That dread roots itself in a rough year of catastrophe.

            I tried to coach my voice into a neutral, “Hi” because I try to protect Charles from the anxiety his calls often trigger.

            “What’s up?” he asked.

            “Me!” I quipped back as soon as I registered his tone of voice.

          “I’m treating myself to breakfast—an omelet. Then I’m going shopping.” His voice sounded upbeat for a change. We chatted back and forth for about half an hour about the new kitchen plates he picked up last week and his planned visit to my sister’s house next weekend. We talked about the ice that froze San Antonio a few days before and his relief that the frozen snap didn’t impact his newly insulated plumbing down in League City.

            Everything we talked about was light, bright and breezy. Getting a happy call is so rare that I found myself writing about it today. But . . . maybe this will be what 2022 brings to our family.

 

Stressed at Christmas 2021


Happy Charles 2014



Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman