The Story of Mad Dog & Claw ~ Part I

When we were little girls, my Uncle Tommy nicknamed my sister and me, Mad Dog & Claw. I was Mad Dog, she was Claw. He'd set up wrestling matches for us & give long, drawn out announcements before the match started. When the ding of the bell singled the start, we'd wrestle, like girls. There was a lot of giggling and hair pulling. There was a lot of , "Time out, time out, she kicked me hard that time!" I think my uncle longed for more nephews.

Today, I think a lot about these silly names my uncle made up to keep us entertained so many years ago. I wonder if he had any idea how relevant they'd be later in life. Because, I don't know a better Mad Dog or Claw than my sister and me.

My sister is fourteen months younger than me. Our childhood was spent playing. Real playing, the kind where your backyard or your living was transformed into a Barbie neighborhood or Lego land, because you made it that way with anything you could scavenge. Real playing, the kind where you were so lost in a make-believe world, you didn't know how it got to be dinner time so quickly. My sister was the best playmate because she got lost in that world with me. The things we played, the worlds we created... We played gymnastic championship on our front lawn in 1984 when Mary Lou Retton won Olympic gold. We made up a game called Wall Ball to play against the house on long summer afternoons. We decorated snow forts in the winter and made our own hills in the flat backyard. I think we actually believed our doll house families were alive! Their lives were our own personal soap opera.

Soon, we grew up and the differences in us became apparent. And even though we were interested in different things, we managed to stay close. There were many nights when I would sleep on her bedroom floor, just because I missed sharing a room with her.

In our early twenties, we decided to move out and rent our first apartment. I felt so lucky to have a sister who wanted to live with me and all my bad habits! Kara often acted more like the big sister, making sure we had groceries and that I had enough money to pay my share of the rent, or that I woke up from a bad hangover.

Life kept going, and changes came. I moved out of the apartment, to a new town.  I bought a town home, Kara bought a condo. Kara was my maid-of-honor and the first person to bring me flowers the day my daughter was born.

All through life, my sister has been there. I have never known a moment without her. She is the little girl who cut my hair during The Three Stooges, the young girl I made up to go to junior high dances, the young lady who was brave enough to move across the country for college. She is the one person who I could always count on to simply be there.

On that fateful Thursday, she was the second person I called, only after my mother. She was the one who left work, drove an hour, and sat with me while I watched everything I thought I had fall away. She was the one who planned my future for me because she had the sense, the knowledge, the calm, and strength to do it. After all, she is Claw. And true to her name, she helped me claw back many parts of my life and make them all my own.

Now, it would seem reasonable that the story of Mad Dog and Claw end here. But, has the universe ever played that fair? Never. The story of Mad Dog and Claw was far from over.

Your Most Comfortable Pair of Genes

In those volatile days after that fateful Thursday, I started planning. I planned my future. However, I needed to know how I was going to make it to that future.

And so first , like any girl would do, I looked to my favorite genes.

On both sides of my family, courageous, strong women have come before me. I'd like to use this blog to highlight just a few of them. Because, if you know them, you know me.

I must begin with my gramma. Her name was Thelma Pearl. She was born just before the Depression and was always tiny, therefore earning her the nickname, Tot. She grew up with very little and lost her mother when she was very young. Her step-mother, by today's standards, was abusive. As soon as she could, she fled Southern Illinois for Chicago. Once there, she met my gramps, married him, and started a family. She had a cackling, contagious laugh, the sweetest voice and softest hands I've ever felt. I miss her every day of my life.

Tot's older sister is my Aunt Dottie. Aunt Dottie vividly remembers the Depression, and speaks of how her father knew how to preserve fruit so they had enough to last through the winter. It was Dottie who brought Tot to Chicago and helped her get settled. In a time when it wasn't popular for women to learn trades, Dottie learned bookkeeping and made a living at it. She raised five intelligent, successful children on her own. Today, my Aunt Dottie is in her late 80's and can tell you a story from her life that would leave you mesmerized.

My Great Aunt Helen is my gramps' sister. She left her home in Chicago and raised a family in a small Nebraska town. She had her own business, in-home daycare. She once told me that sometimes she knew the parents couldn't pay, "and that was alright". Aunt Helen had five children, and not so many years ago, her oldest son passed away. And, still, Aunt Helen writes her letters, shares her stories, and smiles her gentle smile.

There's my mom, Nancy. Besides raising two exceptional daughters, she is the principal of an elementary school. When we were young, she went back to school and earned a master's degree. Then, she waited a long time until her glass ceiling cracked and she could be the boss. She stepped into her role with a zealousness and determination to be the best, and she has succeeded.

Recently, my cousin, Joyce, reminded me it has been seventeen years since she was diagnosed with colon cancer. She is a seventeen year survivor of the disease that frightens us all. She took hold of her life, and beat cancer because she knew she had a lot more living to do. Today, Joyce has five beautiful grandchildren that adore her.

There's my Aunt Judy, my godmother. She bought me my first (and only) pair of Jordache jeans. She does things like that, makes life, special. She made a list, either before she turned 50 or before she turned 60, of all the things she wanted to do before that age. A few people scoffed at this, but she went out there and rode a horse, for one! Last Easter, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After surgery, she sat up in her bed and announced to everyone that she was going home. And, she did. Today, she is cancer free and enjoying life to the fullest.

Lastly, there is my sister, Kara. But Kara's story will have to wait. Because, talk about life kicking you square in the ass when you are already down...

These women, my genes, all possess similar qualities. They have survived heartache, meager times, turbulent periods in American history, oppression, and life-threatening disease. And they have done it with dignity. They never once complained, whined, or cried, "Woe is me".Their sadness never got in the way of their strife. Their determination to go on living was never lost. They simply, went on. With all this extraordinary family around you, you kind of have to.

So, when my calamitous time came, I studied my genes, wrapped myself in their comfort and went on. Just as the remarkable women before me have, and those after me, will do.

Lemonade Out of My Lemons

You've heard about it. You've read about it. You've watched it.  It being that person whose life was turned upside down, flipped over, and catapulted into a new direction in seconds.

I'm that person.

Just over a year ago, I woke up on a seemingly normal Thursday in late May. I showered, dressed and fed my children, dashed off to work, and proceeded to have another day in the life of me. My day could not have been any more routine. And, then, it just wasn't.

Now, I realize this leaves you hanging on the edge of your seat, but all in good time. From that moment, I emerged, the real me, the strongest lady I currently know. And, in her is a quest.

My quest is to make lemonade out of my lemons. Using this blogspot, I wish to help people understand anyone can, one, survive, and two, overcome anything that life may hurl at them. I also wish to show people that when life hurls that life-altering moment at you, you embrace it and put something good back out into the universe.

I'll share my "survival tactics". I'll share my journey of establishing and (hopefully) maintaining a non-profit... all from this keyboard. Amazing. I hope.