Photos | Telling the Truth

September 1, 2015

Celebrating our 50th! | Dear Readers

When we got married September 11, 1965, we weren’t thinking about what it might mean to celebrate our anniversaries early in September. Nor did we know that both of us would become graduate students and then geeky academics who have to show up for teaching and other duties during early September no matter what!

Bottom line: Yes, we celebrated over the years, but it was often low-key. You know. Dinner out, wherever and whenever we could afford it. Cards and the occasional gift that stood out from the others. Now and then we settled for a substitute day, usually on a weekend.

Then we got into academic administration. Not at the same institution, mind you! But we got into it, and that meant duties began in August. When September came around nobody was even thinking of taking a day or two off. At least we weren’t.

In 2011, I retired from my position at the seminary. D, however, decided he would like to work for an indeterminate number of years before retiring. We’re virtually the same age, so this wasn’t about age. His work involved a lot of international travel, sometimes on the date of our wedding anniversary.

As of this month, however, D has actually retired! Sort of. He’ll still do some traveling, and help with projects during the transition. But we now have no excuses about not celebrating properly, and we have missed opportunities to redeem—if that’s possible.

Since it’s our 50^th, we decided to take 2-3 weeks and just do whatever we want to do. I won’t tell you what we’re going to do. So don’t ask. But I will say part of it involves day trips, restaurants, hiking, birding, museums, lazing around and whatever else strikes our fancy.

Why am I telling you this? Because I’m not going to do heavy-duty posting for the next 2 to 3 weeks. That means things like my Faculty Wife series will be on hold. Hopefully I’ll have some lighter posts that you’ll enjoy. I will be checking in from time to time, so don’t stop coming by!

Thanks for your faithful reading—which doesn’t mean reading everything (unless you really want to!). It just means showing up regularly or as you’re able, to listen in and be part of the conversation.

I can’t help heaving a big sigh every time I think about it. Fifty years of living with D! Maybe I’ll have a few things to say about that in the next 2-3 weeks.

I pray God’s blessing on each of you, in whatever ways you need blessing right now.

Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 August 2015
Photo credit: DAFraser, June 2015
Children’s Garden in the Longwood Gardens Conservatory

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August 25, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 11

FRAGILE

Handle with Care

I’ve never been an extrovert. I have, though, witnessed insensitivity toward the feelings and unpredictable responses of extroverted children who don’t have skin made of iron.

Surprisingly, our extroverted USA culture Read the rest of this entry »

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August 20, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 9

Christmas turkey nearly gone, 1970 – Yes, Daughter has a healthy appetite!

Summer 1970. Two challenges won’t be put off.

The first is in my face every day and night: Read the rest of this entry »

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August 18, 2015

gracious morning sun

gracious morning sun
rises on spacious lawn set
for tea and crumpets

* * *

Well, maybe not tea and crumpets. But the social equivalent thereof. This is gracious Kenya service at its natural, well-groomed best. It’s early in the morning. You’re looking at the Naro Moru River Lodge. It’s late August 1999. D and I are there for a fall faculty retreat, along with 20-25 faculty and administrative colleagues from the seminary near Nairobi where we taught that fall.

This was my introduction to the laid-back beauty of post-British rule services for vacationers and tourists. That included in-country and foreign visitors such as D and I. I’d never in my life been treated to such gracious service. It existed in the Deep South when I was growing up, but not for me. I felt almost like Queen for a Day. Actually for a weekend.

When I think about hospitality to strangers, I think of simple things. Yet this and other experiences like it, though not simple, are also signs of hospitality. I found myself enjoying the weekend while feeling strangely out of place and out of time. More than a little self-conscious because I was a stranger, unsure about my place at the table. Hospitable as it was.

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August 15, 2015

Colors of Africa

red ochre seeps
through thin young veins
leaves blush

* * *

In Fall 1999 I went with D to a seminary near Nairobi, Kenya, for my fall sabbatical. D has a long history with the seminary. I’d been once before. This was my first longer-term visit.

Mom had died in February that year, 78 years old. I was still grieving, shaky and uncertain about my identity without Mom present in my life.

My teaching load was light. I facilitated my favorite seminar ever–how to reflect theologically on biblical narrative–attended seminary functions, did a little speaking and a lot of listening and travel.

Just after we arrived, we went to the fall faculty retreat at a conference center outside of Nairobi, near Mt. Kenya. D took this photo on our way back to Nairobi.

The area around and north of Nairobi is a riot of colors and lush greenery. At the very base of everything, though, is red ochre. It’s everywhere. It isn’t simply in the earth; it is the earth. It’s also the fine dust floating through the dry air, coloring the water during short and long rains, seeping into and clinging to everything. A reminder of our origins.

Psalm 103:13-14 (NRSV, slightly edited by me)

As parents have compassion for their children,
so the Lord has compassion for those who fear God.
For God knows how we were made;
And remembers that we are dust.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 August 2015
Photo credit: DAFraser, September 1999, Ngini, Kenya

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August 15, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 8

Wide-awake Children, Sleepy Mom, New Yamaha Piano – August 1971

It’s June 1970. Mother has arrived and wants to be helpful. She is, and I’m grateful. I also wish I could just say, ‘No, I’d rather not have you in our bedroom right now while I’m nursing Daughter. I need to be alone with her.’

But I can’t get the words out of my mouth. She comes in and sits there watching us, trying to get a conversation going. I’m caught between guilt and despair. This feels instrusive. A familiar feeling from my childhood and youth.

I feel self-conscious. My body tenses up just when I need to be relaxed and focused on nursing Daughter. When Mom leaves to go back to Savannah, I think things will be easier. They are not.

I have no idea how to be a mother of two children in diapers. Nothing prepared me for the avalanche of non-stop diaper-changing, non-stop feeding, cooking and washing dishes, non-stop laundry plus hanging every diaper out to dry and folding every piece of clean laundry and making sure it’s in the right place, in order, so that I don’t go crazy the next time I need to use whatever it is I just put away.

Exhaustion. Mental and physical exhaustion from planning ahead, making sure I have things ready to go in the morning before the first child in diapers wakes up hungry and on go, setting the alarm early to get a few quiet minutes with myself if I can just get my feet on the floor. And now our lovely daughter is stirring.

Then there are night feedings. I almost forgot them. Blissfully quiet time with Daughter. But why don’t I have as much milk as she wants? I don’t know. Am I drinking enough water? Eating enough food? Resting enough? No. No. and No.

I thought I knew how to do this. Even with D home for most of the summer, helping as he’s able, I’m overwhelmed, undernourished and sinking. For the first time since I became a mother I’m feeling depressed, teary, and resentful. Potty training seems ages away. So does any semblance of ‘normal.’

Daughter is hungry. I get comfortable on the sofa, grateful for time to be off my feet and focused on her. Son comes along, almost on schedule, and wants to watch. No problem. Just sit right here beside me while I nurse Sister.

It seems, however, that Son wants me to watch him. He shows me things he’s doing or looking at out the window. He demands my attention. Sitting beside me doesn’t last more than a few minutes. I’m still trying to nurse Sister.

Now he’s pushing boundaries. D isn’t around, and I’m frantic. Words don’t work. A snack doesn’t even seem to help, except when his mouth is full. Now my relaxed state of mind and body are gone, and Daughter is crying for more milk than I have to give her.

I’m juggling and all the balls are dropping to the floor, bouncing into another room or disappearing under the sofa.

Now look at that. My hair is disappearing! Falling out in huge hunks every time I wash it. I’m alarmed. Sores show up inside my mouth and won’t go away. They burn every time I eat—especially pineapple or citrus.

Even worse, my milk is drying up! Daughter nurses for a few minutes, seems happy, then she’s crying from hunger. There’s nothing left. I’m frantic. Can it get any worse?

It can. The diaper pail is overflowing with stinking diapers from two children, not one. When is Son going to catch on that being potty trained is wonderful for him—not just for me?

Getting up in the morning feels like punishment. And no matter how many things I try, the exhaustion and despair don’t go away. Not even when D pitches in do some of the housecleaning, cooking and care of our children.

To be continued. . . .

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August 14, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 7 – Photos

Time for Big Brother to meet Baby Sister! He’s captivated by her every move and feature. He also notices the earth shifting beneath his feet. He knows he’s getting a little sister; he doesn’t, however, have a clue what that will mean. Nonetheless, he throws himself into his new role with exuberance.

We now have, though we don’t realize it yet, an extroverted Son and an introverted Daughter. Maybe you can see a bit of it in the photos? I wish I had tapes of the nonstop chatter and questions. On second thought….

Here are a few photos taken soon after we brought our Daughter home from the hospital. In fact, the first photo is the day we brought her home. You can see the hospital bands on my wrist. I think D is giving Son the talk about how to touch the top of his sister’s head.

In the photo below, I can’t help noticing the Andrew Wyeth print above the couch. Calming and peaceful. The exact opposite of what happens when Son gets on his stick-horse and gallops around the house.

Shortly after we got home from the hospital, my mother and father came to see their new granddaughter and to help with whatever needed to be done–laundry, cooking, cleaning, gardening, and admiring their first granddaughter! I think the photo below was taken on a Sunday morning. Those look like Sunday shoes and socks on Daughter.

The Currier and Ives print swivel rocker was my favorite chair ever. It lasted for decades before having to be retired. Comfy, comforting and always peaceful, especially with good music in the background, as seen here.

We don’t have a TV yet. Just the sound equipment we brought from Cambridge, and a growing collection of records that now includes children’s songs and stories. No piano in the house, but lots of music for relaxing, marching, crying or singing.

Definitely another Sunday photo. Son is wearing his new ‘suit,’ made by my mother or by me. Can’t remember. Daughter has her now-familiar taking-it-all-in look. She was a quiet, present, calm, and patient second-born. She had no trouble, however, signaling when enough was enough. To say she had a ‘voice’ on her would be an understatement.

The week we arrived home, a big package came for Son. It was from D’s mother. A gift to celebrate the arrival of his sister. Here he is pulling it out of the box. Meet Big Bear, one of many stuffed animals who featured in multiple make-believe stories and activities.

Just looking at these pictures makes me a bit nostalgic. But not too much. The journey from there to here has been as human as any family’s journey. Which is why I want to keep writing about myself.

The far side of this journey feels better than the process of getting here. Yet I look back now and see connections I never saw back then. Being able to do this simply increases my gratitude for what I have now, and for family members who made this journey with me.

To be continued….

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August 13, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 6

It’s late May 1970. I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub, giving Son a bath before he goes to bed. The house is full of my family members, including my parents. They drove up from Savannah to attend Diane’s commencement.

We just finished an early supper. Mom and Sister #2 are cleaning up the table and kitchen. Tonight is Diane’s baccalaureate service, and D is leaving early to be part of the faculty processional.

He comes into the bathroom to tell Son and me goodbye. He’s all dressed up, carrying his robe. I feel a little left out of the fun. He gives us goodbye kisses.

I hear D going out the front door. Suddenly I feel something. Surely it was just another false contraction. They’re the pits! Besides, I’m in no position to go into labor right now.

My water breaks. No doubt about it. I’m still sitting on the edge of the bathtub. I holler for someone to stop D! Sister #2 races out the front door and catches D just as he’s backing out of the driveway.

It doesn’t take long to figure out I need to get to the hospital pronto. D and Sister #2 help me get to the car. I stuff a towel under my seat and D drives straight to the hospital. The time between contractions is frightfully short.

Things have changed since our son was born. In South Carolina, husbands are now allowed in labor rooms. There’s one small requirement. The husband and his pregnant beloved must have a certificate showing they successfully completed a Lamaze course for couples. We have the certificate! We’re ready!

We were expecting something like this. . . .

When we get to the Baptist Hospital, they take me via wheelchair, with D this time, to a labor room. It’s small and private. Just a table for me to lie on, a chair for D, and a button to push if we need help. The nurse assigned to monitor me has an abrupt, take-charge, no-nonsense manner and a voice to match. My heart sinks. I’m glad D is with me.

Nurse immediately checks to see how far along I am, while telling me to stop complaining so much! When I hear how far along I am, I ask for a pain-reliever. The same kind I had when our son was born. It’s important not to wait too long, or it won’t be very effective.

Nurse is reluctant to give me anything. This is nothing! I’m not nearly ready to give birth! I insist. Firmly. Where I found the strength to talk back to her is beyond me. I’m sure I said things I might regret if I remembered them. But I don’t.

I do remember, however, that she told me to stop being such a sissy. Then she begrudgingly gave me the pain reliever. Her better idea was to put me out completely right before I gave birth. No way! I wanted to be awake for this event, and relatively pain-free. Is that too much to ask for?

Unfortunately, after giving me the painkiller, there was no time for D to help me breathe, much less relax between contractions. Only 5 or 10 minutes max after getting to the labor room another nurse came to check and immediately took me to the delivery room. No overhead mirror this time so I could watch what was happening. It didn’t take long for our beautiful daughter to arrive, only 1 ½ hours after my water broke.

D felt disappointed and deprived of his role as my coach. So did I. He also loves to remind me of all that time he spent in those training classes, learning to time my contractions, help me breathe and get comfortable, etc., etc., and all for Nothing!

Still, nothing takes the place of how happy we are that we now have a daughter and a son! Here we are, soon after delivery, looking at our new daughter through the nursery window.

We don’t have a clue how much life just changed.

To be continued….

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 August 2015
Photo credits: DAFraser (top photo), Getty Images from bbc.co.uk (prenatal class in England 1968), Unknown (bottom photo)

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August 10, 2015

Faculty Wife | Part 5 – Photos

Fall 1969-spring 1970. I loved having Diane around during my first year as a Faculty Wife. She was a senior at the Bible College. Diane quickly became part of our social life, along with some of her zany, like-minded friends. D took this photo at the rental house just after we arrived in fall 1969.

Diane had been in Japan during the summer with a team of students doing short-term missionary service. Her bum knee (injured months earlier while playing basketball with one arm) flared up, and she returned on crutches. Now we’re trying to find a spot on the ground that’s flat enough to keep her steady while we eat lunch outdoors.

Perhaps you noticed how much things have changed at the Bible College. Both of us have real knees that actually show. No more covered knobby knees! Or skirts below the knees.

Over the Christmas break in 1969, we moved into our new house and enjoyed a rare snowstorm! See below. That’s our son in his winter gear, intended for Boston winters. Which, of course, this is not. The snow was probably gone within a few days.

Early in spring 1970, Diane asked if we would host her 21st birthday party in mid-April. Of course we would! Given her creative streak, she wanted something memorable. No silly games. Just challenging and fun activities. Most of these women had either participated with Diane in one of her crazy dormitory practical jokes, or had been a target. They didn’t like dull.

So for the main activity we came up with a giant finger-painting session. It would have to be on the floor. On butcher paper that D and I taped together and cut into a large circle. Something to treasure forever! We mixed up ample fingerpaints, and I baked goodies galore plus a birthday cake (no pictures, sadly).

Here are two photos of the main art event.

I think Diane is in the lower right-hand corner of the first photo. About 12 women came.

In the background of the second photo you’ll see our son, now about 1 ½ years old, looking on with longing and apprehension. Yes, he’s been told this is for the women, not for him! How cruel can it get? See his thumb in his mouth? He’s definitely fighting the urge to jump in.

I can’t remember how it happened. One minute he was holding back. Then the women took pity on him. Someone took his shirt off, and the next minute he was all over that work of art and the women were just loving it! As was he.

So was I, and then I wasn’t. It was fine as long as he stayed on the edge and dabbled. But crawling onto the great work of art was the last straw! D saved the day. He grabbed Son before he got to the middle, and took him straight to the bathtub. I grabbed the camera and followed. Don’t ask me how it got on his back. I don’t want to remember.

Then there were super happy visits to Diane’s dorm room. Diane took this photo during one of his babysitting visits to her dorm room. He’s sitting at the foot of her bed.

Our son doesn’t really get it that there’s an intruder coming soon. But first I need to backtrack a tiny bit.

To be continued….

August 2, 2015

Growing and Changing | from Diane

Here’s a children’s sermon from Diane for all us adults who may not like what we see in the mirror. Or the news we just got from the doctor about what’s coming down the road. Read on… Read the rest of this entry »

Tag: Photos

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