Holding Your Nose

When I was a kid, most medicines were not flavored.  Like the old Little Rascal’s series where Alfalfa has to take medicine and he puts a clothes pin on his nose, I wished for a clothes pin.  I would occasionally hold my nose.  I remember taking aspirin.  I think you could buy children’s flavored aspirin, good ol’ St. Joseph’s.  I don’t know whether it was because it sounded Catholic and we avoided all things Catholic as a child or if it was that it just cost unnecessary money but we never had it.  Instead my mother would take an aspirin, break it in two and then two again.  The ¼ aspirin would then be crushed between two spoons.  A few drops of water were added along with some sugar.  My mother would come with the spoon saying I needed to drink some sugar water.  It did mask the aspirin taste a little bit.  It was a good day when I finally learned to swallow a pill.

My experience in South Dakota is a bit like taking medicine that tastes bad.  I have always known deep in my soul that God was in control and He had a purpose in sending me to South Dakota.  I don’t much get into discussions of God’s perfect will.  I don’t know if this was “His will.”  I do know that God is with us where ever we go and that He does work all things for our benefit. 

While it is true that I came kicking and screaming up here, I’ve never doubted there was a reason, a purpose to it all.  I’ve experienced a lot of pain in this South Dakota crucible.  You’ve read about it here on these pages.  There will be more pain.  There is always more pain in this life.  Anyone who tells you different is delusional or just not honest.  I am not saying all pain is good either.  But pain tells you something is wrong.  Pain demands you deal with it.

I’ve been dealing with pain I had neglected for the last few years here in this frozen desert.  I have feared for my sanity and my life.  I have cried many tears.  I have asked many questions.  I have come to the brink of despair and even death.  My emotions have been raw.  I experienced another dark night of the soul.  I found that in one’s life you can experience this more than once.  I begged God for relief.  I sought help and prayed even when I couldn’t pray. 

I’ve survived.  I’ve not only survived but I’m better.  Not better in the sense that a flaw has been righted but in the sense that I am a better person.  I have chased demons that have haunted me all my life in this wilderness of snow.  I have slayed a few and learned how to fight the others that still occasionally show their heads.  It’s not been easy.

I’ve learned so many things about myself, Joyce has been uncovered.  Joyce has been found once again.  She is ready to live the rest of her life.  She has hope once again.  The crucible always refines you.  I’ve held my nose and taken my medicine.  There was no spoonful of sugar to help this medicine go down.  But I’ve swallowed the medicine and it has made me whole. 

Norwegian Chapati's

There is snow on the ground.  More is expected today.  A scant 2.4 inches is what the forecast says.  Nothing to get excited about in the Storehouse of Snow here in South Dakota.  I have Julekake proofing in the kitchen.  Plan to make some stew tonight for supper.  Just wish I had some good lamb to make lamb stew.  That was my favorite as a child and seem fitting when I think of Julekake and all things Norwegian.

I just finished listening to Jeg er så glad hver julekveld.  If you want to hear it, you can go here. It has such a haunting melody.  It reminds me of my childhood in Norwegian Brooklyn.  When the Julekake goes in the oven and the fragrance of cardamom fills the air, the memory will blossom further.

When I first came to South Dakota, other than seeing Mount Rushmore for the first time, the thing I was most excited about was reconnecting with Norwegians.  I remember my father and how he would seek out other Norwegians.  He loved connecting with his homeland and roots.  One time he somehow or other found some girl who was from Sweden who was attending William Woods College in Fulton MO.  I have no idea how he found her.  I do remember having to meet this striking blonde beauty.  She was a bit snobby.  However, my father just wanted to welcome her and make her feel comfortable. His father was Swedish.  Something we rarely talked about - but for my dad, Sweden was Norway's neighbor.  Living in Missouri that was about as close as he could get.

The first time we visited Brookings it was the weekend of the bi-annual Fjordland Sons of Norway Waffle Feed.  I really didn't expect authentic Norwegian waffles at a waffle feed.  Commercialized Belgium Waffles were the offered fare.  Sadly, I don't think they've ever tasted a true Norwegian waffle with lingonberry jam.  But I have.  I make them too - they are awesome.  I'll stack mine up against any Norwegian bakers.

My husband and I walked in to stares and glares.  I realized it was a small town but still, if you want to make money, you could be more pleasant.  Little did I know that this is just culture here.  I realized that yesterday as I walked the aisles of HyVee trying to be pleasant.  It's just how they are...

My husband feeling very magnanimous and over paid them.  He said this is a donation. He asked about membership. I'd love to know what was going through their heads as this Pakistan was asking to join Sons of Norway.  We asked to see the president of the lodge.  She was the only really pleasant person that day.  This trend has continued unfortunately.

We joined Sons of Norway.  I was rather excited.  I had never been a member of SONS.  I think when the eventual move back to Tennessee happens I'll try the Music City Vikings.  They look like a fun bunch.  My experience with Fjordland has been like everything else in South Dakota, very disappointing.  

The first year I was here in SD I decided to bake.  I made cookies and lefse.  I have always tried to do a bit of Norwegian baking for the holidays.  Nothing like my mom would do, but still an effort.  Here is a picture of a platter from that first year:

I was shocked to find out that here in SD they know nothing of Julekake or Fattigman.  I don't think they've ever heard Jeg er så glad hver julekveld, they've probably never been to a Juletrefest - and yet, somehow, they've never believed I was truly Norwegian.  How odd?!

Oh well, as they say, it's there loss.  I may have had a bad attitude in moving here, but I did try with things like Sons of Norway.  Really did want to connect with Norwegians here.  But the upper Midwest plains I guess took it's toll on them as well.  I'll enjoy my Julekake all by myself - oh and my Pakistani husband will be happy I made it too.  He even knows what it is.  And lefse?  He refers to them as "Norwegian Chapati's." I'll take mine with butter and sugar, no curry, thank you.

Are you a senior?

I'm in TN.  It's cold.  Not as cold as the freezer I normally abide in, but nevertheless, it is cold.  My daughter was shivering yesterday as she asked me if it was as cold in South Dakota as it was here.  She of course knew the answer. She's been to South Dakota.  She was there last January and told me that it was the coldest she had ever been.  She hasn't been back since.

I am here because I have class on Saturday.  My last class of the semester will include the first introduction to our Statistics teacher.  I'm dreading that.  I'm dreading that more than the snow that will fly while I am taking that class.  I keep telling myself that I'm reasonably smart and that although math has always been my nemesis, I can do this.  I have panic attacks at the sight of an equation that includes a square root symbol, an x or a y.  I have glaze over every time we talk of research methods in class.  I think it's going to be a long hard winter, in more ways than one.

Hopefully the winter in Tennessee will be mild and I will find a reprieve from the weather here often.  I may have to be here for the month of February as I have two classes that month. And it's a short month!  Maybe I'll have more experiences like the one I had last night.

Rather than tell you again about my experiences in the grocery store or at Wal-Mart in South Dakota, let me tell you about the experience at Publix last night.  For those of you not familiar with southern grocery chains, here we have several.  One is Publix which is probably my favorite although a bit more expensive.  We also have Kroger and Harris Teeter.  Nashville is fully blessed to have Trader Joe's and Whole Foods as well.  I used to think shopping at Whole Foods was too expensive, that was until I went to Pomegranates in Sioux Falls the other day. YIKES!!!

I didn't want to go to the store.  I was tired.  I had things on my mind.  But we needed a few things and needed to eat at home instead of out.  I picked up eggs and veggies and bread.  Standard fare.  I was turning an aisle by the frozen food and it happened.  While it wasn't a near collision, it was close.  This very pleasant woman pushing her "buggy" (a southern term for a grocery cart - a term I refuse to make part of my vocabulary).  She smiled!  She smiled so nicely.  I smiled back.  We went on about our business.  I called my husband at home and said you'll never guess what happened.  This woman and I had a brief exchange of pleasantness in Publix.  It was such a big deal to me that I had to share it.  Just like I'm sharing it with you.

I got to the check out.  The young man, looked like he was still in High School had evidently been taught manners.  He asked the standard, did you find everything you needed?  I said yes, thank you.  He said EXCELLENT! and smiled.  He went on to ask me how my day had been.  This was 9:30 p.m.  He must have been up at 6 a.m. to get to school on time.  He'd no doubt dealt with the hassles and stress of High School algebra - yes, I'm thinking about math again.  Nothing could be more stressful than Algebra - you know I managed to even get out of taking College Algebra but there's no getting out of statistics.

Back to the grocery store --- as he made a little bit of small talk with me - not a lot, just enough to let me know that he saw me as a human being, I thought how different is this?  Then he asked the question that no one wants to hear.  He said, are you eligible for our senior discount?  They give a senior discount on Wednesdays.  I said how old do you have to be?  He told me.  I sighed a sigh of relieve and said, no I'm not,.  He gave it to me anyway and I saved 5% on the order.  Maybe it won't be so bad and I'll get used to just saying yes, I am eligible.  I have put in the years after all.

What was strange about the whole thing was that I wasn't the least bit offended or upset at the question.  The kid was so nice and polite.  He was right, I am close to that age.

As I left the store, I clicked on the radio to listen to Dr. Asa On Call.  There was this man calling about his wife.  It was the sweetest thing I'd heard in a long time.  A gruff but very southern sounding truck driver was calling about his 47 year old wife who was fainting.  He said it scared the crap out of him.  He said he was "fixin" to do something and she just falls over.  He used every colloquial southern phrase and it was delightful. What was most delightful was his concern for his wife.  In it's own way, it was another southern experience of care and concern.  It warmed my heart to know that a Bubba can really show a soft side

So is this just another rambling of Joyce about the wonders of Tennessee compared to my angst about living in South Dakota?  No, I have a point here.  It's Christmas time.  It is a time where the difference between pleasantness and politeness verses rudeness and refinement can make all the difference in your day.  I am going to remember MY manners even when people don't show any and make my own happiness and pleasantness the next time I meander the aisles of the Brookings HyVee or the Brookings Wal-Mart.  Maybe you should do the same.  We'd all be happier for it.

Rambling

As the first real snow in Brookings SD is falling, I should be reading and annotating, working on my powerpoint, or my chapter two outline.  I am in pretty good shape but I still have a lot to do.  Nevertheless, I have so many ideas floating around in this head of mine and the itch to write.  And I don’t have the itch to write the boring dissertation stuff.  I could probably write ten blogs about different themes and still find something else that is on my mind.  My brain is like that.  It seems to never stop.  I sometimes wonder if that is a diagnosable mental disorder… My brain is fertile, too fertile sometimes.

South Dakota friends… and others, You will be happy to know that I get it… at least I think I do.   I get a few things finally.  I was peddling away on my exercise bike listening to praise music, jammin’ with Jesus, sweatin’ and looking at the snow fall.  I thought Okay, I think I get it.  If I grew up here, not only would this be home to me, but I’d have lived my life with fairly harsh conditions.  I’d be a product of my environment.  Now before you react and say “Oh there she goes again!”  Listen to what I’m trying to say.  I think about how this time in South Dakota has affected me.  It hasn’t been pleasant.  Largely it’s been a shock to everything about my life.  For me the changes were rapid and harsh.  But like the wind, rain and snow that slowly erodes and changes the land, so the weather erodes the spirit.  I was thinking this a.m. “How would I be if this was where I grew up?”  I’d probably have never learned that it is polite to say excuse me when you run people over with your cart at Wal-Mart.  I’d probably smile less.  I’d probably never say “God bless you” when someone sneezes.  These things are important to me.  But they aren’t to others.  It doesn’t really make them rude.   It just makes them different.  On the other hand, I’d probably value hard work over sentimentality.  I’d probably be less relational and more self-reliant.  I’d probably enjoy the wide open spaces..

You’ll be happy to know I finally have figured out why 4-H achievement days are important.  I have figured out why livestock takes priority over people.  I don’t like the fact that the roads won’t be cleaned in a timely manner, but I still get why it’s not a big deal here.  Yesterday I was in Sioux Falls and shocked to see that the 1” of snow they had on Monday was still covering some side streets.  I thought WHAT???? I shouldn’t be slipping on snow after 3 days… but I also get why it’s not important or a big deal.  It’s just how people live here. 

I’ve stopped fighting with South Dakota.  It was a battle I could never win anyway.  Someone asked me yesterday if when I leave here I’ll miss South Dakota.  I thought for a moment.  The expected answer is Heck, NO!!!  I am sure that is the answer some of you expect too – you figure this woman is going to party and shout when she leaves here.  She’ll be screaming hallelujah as she crosses the border for the last time.  And while I probably will be happy when I leave, I will miss South Dakota.  Oh I won’t miss snow and rude people, but I will miss many things about South Dakota when the time comes to finally leave.  South Dakota has changed me.  It’s harsh realities have actually made me a better person.  For that I am thankful. 

Okay, time to work on the important stuff like school... 

Smile Sweetie

I live a lot of my life on Facebook.  I suppose that sounds very sad.  And it is.  However, it is how I've kept connections and sanity during the long stint in South Dakota.  People still don't understand how incredibly hard the adjustment (or in my case lack of adjustment) to SD has been.  I've said repeatedly it's not just the weather.  I understand that even some of the locals don't like bad weather.

Last week a Facebook acquaintance from South Dakota made a comment about hating the winter weather.  She's more a friend of a friend, but I've met her a few times.  She's a very overly positive person.  Those people are nice and it works for them.  But sometimes the drippy everything is perfect, make lemonade out of lemons type of people get on my nerves.  I had a friend in Connecticut who was like that too.  We are no longer friends and it is largely because she found my realism too much for her Pollyannistic view of life.  I do miss her though.

After this acquaintance commented on the weather, I made this comment:

When I say that, people get mad at me.

She replied:

I'm only talking about the weather, not the location or the people

Unable to leave it alone, I said:

It doesn't matter what I say - I can just say it's cold or icy and

 people jump down my throat, but oh, I guess that's the people, my bad...

Zing!!! Zingers.... It was obvious she didn't care for me.  It was obvious that she, like a few others in South Dakota feel the need to defend their fair state and its people. 

I wish they could have been with me this week in Tennessee.  While I will confess that the rudeness of Wal-Mart employees can be universal.  I ran into a few of them at Cheatham County's Wal-Mart.  Overall, I was once again amazed at the difference in people.  

Thanksgiving morning, unprepared for the feast, I went to Kroger to correct that situation.  My cart (buggy in the South) was getting full.  No one cut in front of me with their cart.  Those occasional potential corner collisions were met with a smile and an Oh Excuse Me from both us.  When I say oh, excuse me in Brookings, it is usually met with a glare rather than a smile.  

In the parking lot, a young man stood by my car waiting to take my cart, along with his, to it's waiting place in the parking lot.  He didn't work there.  He didn't have to do that.  He said to me, "May I take that Ma'am?"  I said, Oh Thank You - he said have a Happy Thanksgiving Ma'am.  

Then yesterday we made our last ritual stop in Tennessee.  We always stop at the Sudden Service gas station in Pleasant View, TN.  They have a Wendy's, a convenience store and best of all a Dunkin Donuts. One last cup of coffee for the road, and donuts to munch on as we travel.  Heavenly.  My husband paid for our gas purchase.  The young woman behind the counter called him "sweetie" - "Thanks Sweetie."  He is old enough to be her father, and I know it is just habit with her, but it still sounded nice.  

We purchased a few things at Wendy's.  There we heard, have a good day Hun... I guess there is something about cowboy boots and buckles that prevent that kind of endearments?  As I ate my spicy chicken nuggets I heard another woman at the register say to her customer, Ya'all have a blessed day.  You too replied the customer... Ahhh, I hated to leave the south.

Finally, we got our coffee to go.  And of course the sour cream donuts I love so much.  The young woman behind the counter was all smiles.  Her register wasn't working.  She had to go to the back for everything she did... She still smiled.  She went out of her way to be pleasant.  She greeted a regular by name but never missed a beat or a smile in her interactions with me. 

That was a nice way for Tennessee to say good bye to me yesterday.  Soon it will welcome me back home again.  Until then, I'll try to remember not to smile in Brookings and to forget my manners or say excuse me.  I've adjusted.  It is the people.  They are different.  I suppose they aren't bad.  They like each other.  Maybe they even remember to say please and thank you and excuse me among themselves... but they just don't smile.  

Faithfulness is more important than happiness

I wonder how many times I have gone through this feeling of dread in the last two and half years.  Has it only been that long?  Two and a half years?   As I count on my fingers, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November…. Yes, it’s actually been two years and eight months since I first saw Brookings SD.  But who’s counting J 

I’ve written before of my husband’s elation and my sorrow when he first was summoned to work for the people of South Dakota.  I am often chastised because of my comments about the people of South Dakota.  I suppose I view them through my own lens and since I do, I see them differently than someone who finds the Dakotas home.  Some people feel the same way about my beloved Brooklyn.

Today I am heading north again.  I wish this were the last time.  I don’t know when the last time will be, it is just a reality of life now.  I am reminded of the words of my professor, “It’s not for forever but it is for now.”  It just is.  It is how my life is lived at this present moment in time.  I live like a yo-yo on a string being pulled here and there seemingly against my will.

Yet, it is my choice.  I could stay in Tennessee.  I’ve always had that choice to stay here.  I have a home here.  I have children here.  And in retrospect, the correct decision would have been to stay here.  It is my husband who is bound to the people of South Dakota, not me.  Yet, I am bound to him in this love relationship of 32 years.  Over and over, every time I get in that car to head north I am saying “I do…for better or worse.” 

I want to stay here.  I can’t describe to you how I feel when I come home.  I am sure you know the feeling of coming home.  But this is different.  There is a lightness and a contentment that comes over me that is hard to describe.  Today I have the opposite of that feeling.  Today I feel the dread and angst of not just two days of being in a small car, but of returning to a place that is not home.

Like the marines, there are a few good people in South Dakota.  I’ve met some of them.  There is the professor at the seminary who I’ve only met briefly in person who still cheers me on and encourages me.  What a gift!  There are the beautiful friends I’ve made at Grandview Covenant Church.  They are true gems.  I have been so blessed to know them.  I feel the same sadness of leaving that I feel now when I think of the day I will not see them.  Then there is my un-coffee buddy.  She’s help me cope in ways she can’t imagine.  And my wise woman – the wise woman who has known my darkest secrets and my deepest pain and held my hand as I walked through a maze of despair.

In a couple of hours I’ll get in my tiny 2003 red Chevy Cavalier, what a story I could tell you about that car.  Like me, she’s old but she has been so faithful.  I’m being faithful today too.  I am returning with my husband to South Dakota because it is the right thing to do.  Sometimes I get tired of doing the right thing.  Sometimes I wish I didn’t have this strong moral compass telling me to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” or telling me to “love unconditionally.”  But I do have this compass, and ultimately I am thankful for it.  I think it is the compass that guided 32 years of marriage. 

Today I’ll renew my vows again.  I will forsake all others and keep myself to my husband.  I will say “I do” not with the giddy joy of a bride, but with the wisdom of an old woman.  A wisdom that tells me that faithfulness is more important than happiness. 

Someday we will say good bye to South Dakota.  Someday I will have one place to live again.  Someday… but that day is not today.

That Four Letter Word S--W

I had a good day yesterday.  That's odd for South Dakota.  Although perhaps it's not as odd as I make it out to be on this blog.  The problem never has been really South Dakota, the problem was always me.  South Dakota does make me crazy.  South Dakota does make me sad.  South Dakota has drug me to the pits of depression. However, it's really not because South Dakota is some how inherently evil.  It just is like oil and vinegar, or any other two elements that can never fully integrate, I am not a good in South Dakota.

It's fine to say that South Dakota can't change for me, to say that it is me who has to change to accommodates it's ways, it's weather, it's idiosyncrasies, it's people.  But I can't.  I've tried. I can however, learn to navigate this hostile terrain safely.

There was a bit of rain yesterday that was a harbinger of the snow to come.  I've been checking weather.com, accuweather.com, weatherbug and the national weather service.  All with the anticipation of the dreaded four letter word, snow.

When I was a kid, I think I loved snow.  I remember building snow forts.  While I pine away with romanticized visions of life in Brooklyn, Brooklyn has changed perhaps even more than I have.  There are but scan few Norwegians left in my old neighborhood.  8th Avenue is a China Town.  The 17 of May parade, still held in Brooklyn, now marches in a different direction on a different Avenue. Salem Gospel Tabernacle is no longer Salem, it is Sunset Park Community church.  There are no string bands or Smörgåsbord or Juletree Fests.  But it still snows in Brooklyn.  Snow seems to be a constant in my life.

I had a conversation about snow today with my husband.  It really wasn't about snow.  It was about me and snow.  I've been doing all this weather checking because I have to head south again for class on Saturday.  I was contemplating do I leave tomorrow or Thursday.  Two days of driving in a little 2003 Chevy Cavalier that like me, is feeling her age.  I've driven in extreme snow many times and survived.  But I'd rather not do it again.

Cows, South Dakota and Snow - all synonymous

Oh I signed on for this so I supposed I shouldn't complain.  But here is where this all comes together.  Snow can be predicted but is always unpredictable.  A slight change can dump more snow or less snow.  Today's snow will not be like tomorrow's snow.  The snow in Brooklyn is a different experience than the snow in Missouri.  The trace snow in Tennessee does not compare to the mountains of snow in Connecticut. And of course nothing is like the powdery whiteout blizzards of South Dakota.

I want predictable.  Oh not that I'm not fun loving and like adventure and new experiences, I do... but when they are done, I want predictable.  I want to know that if I plan to go to Tennessee on this day, that's the day I'll go.  I want to know that if I plan to get up in the morning and do this or that, that by the time the day is over I've done this or that.  I want only occasional changes in my life-not constant the every day something changes patterns of my life here.

Thats the problem here in South Dakota -- besides the cows and the rudeness and all the other things I complain about, the real problem is me.  I want some stability.  I want to know where home is.  I want to not have my life reordered and changed.  Like the rapid changing weather patterns here in this Storehouse of Snow, I find the changes paralyzing and depressing.  If the weather has to change, can it not change so fast? Can I have a warning that it's changing?

My husband's job makes extreme demands on him.  He's become a soldier - no I don't mean he's joined the military, I mean he is a soldier.  He's always ready for the changes and demands. He sets aside his emotions and just does it. He never checks the weather reports.  He never considers whether the weather might change.  He just packs up and goes.  I can't do that - that's why he's adjusted to South Dakota and all the places we've lived so much faster than I have.

Snow is coming - change is coming - and it keeps coming - the cold dark depression of winter is setting in to South Dakota.  I'm not ready for it.  I don't think I will ever be ready for it.  But it will come nonetheless.  I will drive tomorrow, or the next day and go south.  I will have Thanksgiving at "home" - if it is home? in Tennessee.  Then I'll return to the snow and leave again in a few days.  Such is life right now -- constant change impinging on a life that wants stability.

Until then, I guess I need to lace up my boots, button my coat, tie my scarf and navigate through another South Dakota winter.