Some of you may remember the story of Karen Carpenter and her eating disorder that originated in the 1970s and finally ended in 1983, very tragically. Her disorder began in the throes of stardom, in reaction (among other things) to comments in the press that she was overweight, chunky. What started as a 'diet' became the compulsive and unhealthy focus on food, calories, and starvation that would ultimately lead to her death. Because of her high-profile status, her illness and attempts at rehabilitation shed light on
something that I was living (unbeknownst to me) at the same time.
I was a high school senior at an all-girls' school in the spring of 1975. I remember it like it was yesterday! I had a lunchtime ritual, which would keep me isolated and, more importantly, away from the school cafeteria. I did NOT want to draw attention to the handful of lettuce I would nibble on for 30 minutes. (Total: 5 calories during the middle of the day.) It was much easier to sit outside, under the flagpole, and work trig problems or read. One day, I brought my new Seventeen Magazine to peruse. I stumbled upon an article about anorexia nervosa. I
had never heard the terminology...but I understood that article because I
WAS LIVING IT.
The article sounded like it was about ME. It spoke of a teenaged girl, a compliant perfectionist, not particularly attractive, valedictorian of her high school, excellent athlete, very active in extracurricular activities, a loving daughter...who was starving herself. She felt like her life was spinning out of control, but there was one thing she could control! No one could force her to eat. She lived on little more than the 'high' she got as she watched and measured every ounce of normal, necessary body fat disappear. I began at a normal 135 pounds, and 3-1/2 years in, I bottomed out at 94 pounds on a 5'5-1/2" frame...hair falling out, kidneys failing (but thank God, heart still pumping.) I shiver to think of my fate, had I not found that magazine article, and had I not had friends who rallied around me with encouragement and compassion.
I had a very small core group of friends who had known me for 10 years at that point. I showed them the article. They were shocked, as was I, to read my story in print. They came up with a plan and, before I knew it, I was in self-help rehab! We had a senior trip planned in a few months. I needed to gain 10 pounds before then. Each of them, in turn, wanted to lose a little weight. They would gingerly walk me into the cafeteria each day at noon and proceed to trade their mashed potatoes for my salad, filling my plate with higher-calorie and healthy foods as they feasted on my low-cal favorites. If I ate the appropriate portions, they rewarded me with a chocolate milk shake...and a lot of pride and praise from my friends, who were actually helping to save my life.
There is so much more I could share. I would love to personally thank the writer of that article. I would love to hug each of my friends and acknowledge their bravery and dedication in starting my healing journey. I opted for a more comfortable approach, to write a song that would:
- explain the realities of anorexia to loved ones of sufferers;
- offer support and understanding to sufferers;
- offer hope of recovery, that will probably span a lifetime! One day at a time...
Please watch this song about my own struggle that I would later acknowledge as anorexia nervosa. I recorded this myself (so the sound quality won't be that of my professionally done videos) and had my producer insert some pictures of me at different stages of my disorder and recovery. I would love to know that my song brought attention to or simply explained the pain of this condition to people who are struggling, in some capacity, with the disease.
Please please please forward this to anorexics and their loved ones, to fellow survivors, to guidance counselors, to teachers. I want to do my part to enlighten, just like Seventeen Magazine did for me in spring of 1975.
as always, until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy
He was born in 1918, the first-born child to a sharecropping family in rural Line, Arkansas. By the time he could stand, he was picking cotton. His family relocated to Bonita, Louisiana, because his father felt his children could receive a better education there. He studied by kerosene lamp, and delivered his lessons in a one-room schoolhouse.
He was by no means the perfect child! If he got a whippin' at school, his little sister would run home to give Mom the news, and he was sent outside to 'prune the peach tree'. (He got a whippin' at home, too, with the very switch he picked.)
He laughed as he
recounted the one pair of shoes ordered from the Sears catalog yearly.
As his mom was placing the order, she would ask, "Doyle, how do your
shoes feel?" He was a kid and his response was, "Fine," and he would
spend the coming year squeezing his growing feet into shoes that
couldn't accommodate them.
He worked hard each day, and studied hard each night, by kerosene lamp. He excelled in Latin, and his teacher decided that he was destined for an undergraduate degree at LSU. Before his formal education was completed, he had received his Ph.D. in Animal Genetics from Oklahoma State University. He would retire as Vice Chancellor for Reseach in the AgCenter at Louisiana State University.
He was an avid traveler throughout his life, crawling across Europe in the 1940s, and revisiting with his wife after his retirement in the mid-'80s. He was a loyal and devoted husband to my mom for 53 years (until her passing), and a consistent and loving dad to us kids. He treasured marriage and family so much that he remarried after her passing and his family increased in size.
Grand-parenting was his specialty! There was a gentleness about his approach to my children that warmed my heart, as he encouraged them in life with wisdoms like, "You can choose any profession. The cream always rises to the top." That was my dad. His name was Doyle Chambers. He died in September 2005.
I wrote the tune 'So Far' after his passing. He was very pragmatic and consistent...I am very exuberant and artsy-fartsy. I understand now why, over the years, he would look at me and grin and shake his head at the way I looked at the world! I always knew he loved me, though.
If I could say one thing to my dad this very day, it would be this: You taught me by your example how to 'stay headed in the right direction and keep it between the lines'. I'd say that's the best gift a father can give a child. Please take a look and listen at this slide-show video of my dad, alongside the rest of our family, over the years.
Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkOiM0ixCdM
Special thanks to producer and videographer Daniel Lee, and to string player Dave Hinson for making this song come to life.
As always, thank you
for reading, watching and listening...and a very Happy Father's Day to
all the fathers and father-figures out there. Until next blog, peace and love to you. dorothy
MODERN CONVENIENCES VS. OLD-SCHOOL METHODS: As someone who has lived through so many technological and societal changes in the past half century, I have been wrestling with a few questions:
- With all the time-and-energy-saving conveniences that have cropped up over the past century, why does it seem that there are never enough hours in a day?
- Is it possible that we get more work done in less time with modern conveniences, yet the process and experience is less satisfying?
- We all have more 'leisure time' since so many difficult, mundane chores have become much easier to accomplish (sometimes with the click of a mouse). Is the satisfaction we get from our leisure time enough to feel whole?
- How important is it to occasionally 'step back in time' and rediscover the satisfaction of a job well done, the old-school way (i.e., write a letter, a song (or yes, even a blog) by hand, or with a manual typewriter)?
Let me give you an example: When I was in high school in 1975, I did a term paper on "Governor Huey P. Long and his effect on LSU". I would say that research might be considered a mundane chore. There was no internet at the time. There were not many books on the topic, but I found the microfilm room in the basement of the LSU library and I plowed through HOURS AND HOURS of film of the 1920s-1930s LSU newspaper, The Reveille. It was actually more like DAYS AND DAYS of film of The Reveille, finding occasional references to Huey Long and his role in developing the university. I took notes by hand, on note cards, noting date of article, aspect of Huey's involvement, etc. After a couple of months, I compiled information I obtained from this and a few other sources, and created something I was really, really proud of. Was it a quick, click-of-the-mouse process? NO. Was it a source of pride and satisfaction to do the paper without the modern conveniences? YES! I bet I could write the same paper today, with my computer in my lap, the weekend before it was due. I would have missed out on so much.
No, I don't want to go back to sweeping my floor every day. I love my vacuum cleaner that does not spray the dust back into the air. Yes, I am glad to have an oven and a stove in my home that will let me cook inside. THAT SAID, I am glad to have had the experience of only having a broom when I was a young adult...and glad to have learned to cook on a campfire and even on the surface of a wood-burning stove in my youth. There's something about the simplicity of the swoosh of the broom on the floor...and having to wait patiently as the food cooks a bit more slowly, without electricity. Maybe it's the simplicity of doing things a more natural way that feeds my soul...that makes me feel complete...that satisfies my very being...that simplifies my life.
I would be honored for you to follow my link and give a listen to a song I wrote a few years ago, called Simplify. It's about appreciating the simple things in life, the things of my youth...those very things that I often turn my back on to keep up with society. Here's to slowing down and simplifying when the world is moving way too fast! Like on a lazy Sunday, like today. Thank you, as always, for reading. Here's the link:
Until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy
My mom was a proud homemaker. She received her Bachelor of Science degree in Home Economics in 1941 from Louisiana State University. Now, before you giggle and say, 'oh, she got her Mrs. degree at LSU'...I'm here to set you straight! While in college, she became proficient in time management and family budgeting; studied health and nutrition; was schooled in food preparation with an emphasis on efficiency and perfection; became an EXCELLENT seamstress and tailor; learned the basics of child development; and to top it off, before she could graduate, she had to live one semester in the Home Demonstration House and be graded proficient (or not), 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, by the most feared and respected teacher around at that time, Iona Smith. As a 1978 graduate from LSU's Home Economics program, I kind of wish I had had that experience. Theirs was a brutal yet exceptional curriculum, at a time when the role of homemaker was respected and celebrated in society. I'd like to introduce you to my mom...
Job Title: homemaker
Hours: 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
Pay: $ 0.00
Job Responsibilities: cooked 3 balanced meals a day for a family of 5; made play, school and church clothes for 3 children; raised those three children; tailored my fathers suits and constructed his around-the-house clothes as well; sewed all of her own clothes; ran errands and drove carpools; budgeted; cleaned house; did yard work; and did everything else that cropped up during the day that required her attention.
How Long Position Held: 53 years
My dad and mom were a team. He worked hard and rose in his career, with my mom's assistance. He would say she was doing the IMPORTANT work. She was caring for home and family. He also had an amazing perception of my mom's role in our family, and I often recounted it when I became a homemaker in the 1980s. He said that for every dollar my mother SAVED (by doing the work herself), that was $2.00 she actually MADE the family, because you are not taxed on the money you SAVE, only on the money you MAKE. That's really crucial. Let me give you that again: For EVERY DOLLAR that my momma SAVED the family by sewing our clothes and cooking our meals, that was actually $2.00 that my momma MADE...because YOU DON'T PAY TAXES ON MONEY YOU SAVE, ONLY ON MONEY YOU MAKE. In my father's eyes (and also in the eyes of her kids) my mom's role was CRUCIAL in our family dynamic.
At the end of this blog, you will find a link to a protest song I wrote and performed at a songwriter event in Baton Rouge, LA, addressing the lack of respect that some people have for homemakers in our society. BEWARE: You will probably be shocked, overwhelmed, AND chagrined by the impact of the lyrics, as you (hopefully) tap your toes to my jazzy melody and bossa nova beat! The tune is entitled Lady of Leisure (which is what my mom called herself, with a wink and a smile).
My mom died on May 25, 1996, of breast cancer. Her name was Luella Dugas Chambers. Mom, this blog is dedicated to you. Thank you for all you did. I hope it will INFORM, INSPIRE, and ENCOURAGE families of today to realize that there ARE alternatives to 2-parents working and children in day care. One parent (of either sex) can be at home SAVING money, doing what my dad (Doyle Chambers) called 'the IMPORTANT work'.
I hope y'all will give a look and listen to the video of my momma's song. Oh, and in case you need clarification, the answer to the question in the title is FALSE!
until next blog, peace and love
dorothy
It's mid-May, 2014. I can wake up in the morning these days, and my little red Honda Fit is no longer covered with pollen. The temperatures are warming up, and the rain seems to have died down. I've noticed another familiar mid-May occurrence. Mixed in with the bills and sales fliers and general correspondence, we've begun to receive graduation invitations from high school and college seniors, wanting to share their accomplishment (and hoping to score a little cash in the process). They look a lot like the invitations I sent out in 1975 when I graduated from high school. 39 years ago. Unbelievable, yet I digress.
Seniors are excited, fearless, ready to take on the world. I know I was. I absolutely do remember my excitement on moving day, ready to make a college dorm my home. Time to stand up on my own two feet, without my parents on the sideline to rescue me when I fell flat on my face. I was SO ready! I never once thought about my parents in this equation...How did it feel as they watched me drive off, knowing that I would not be at breakfast the next morning, or maybe ever again? As a 56-year-old mom of 2 grown sons, I've gained an appreciation for my own parents...and for the art of letting go.
Okay, admittedly, I was reluctant to let go of my kids. I didn't always show it, but I was a twisted-up mess inside. Had I taught them all they needed to know to take on the world, without me? Would they survive? I had so many scenarios playing out in my mind...anticipating that I'd failed them, and that I needed them under my parental umbrella just a wee bit longer.
NOTE TO PARENTS: Not to sound unfeeling or uncaring, but here's what I found. "Out of sight, out of mind" held a lot of credence for me. At some point, you realize that they ARE handling their lives. They no longer NEED you. You've done your job...and now it's time for them to do theirs. That was a hard one to swallow...they no longer NEEDED me. But I survived and you will, too! I became a songwriter and performing musician when my kids left the home. Not bad, right?
NOTE TO STUDENTS: Cut your parents some slack...If they hover a bit (or even a lot) it's because they love you. They've been in your shoes and they know your road may be rocky...Be patient with them, okay?
As a songwriter, I love to reflect on moments like these. I would be honored for you to follow the link to my song, Wander, and give it a listen. It's about love and letting go, in any loving relationship, but I guess I felt it most strongly in May 2003 and May 2005.
And one more thing:
NOTE TO MY PARENTS: I wish I could tell you I'm sorry if I was insensitive as I struck out to find my own way. You guys did an amazing job of letting me wander...
until next blog, peace and love
dorothy
Suffice it to say that the older I get (I'm 56 at the time of this writing), the more I realize all I didn't
learn in kindergarten, or grade school, or junior high, or high school,
or even college. Scholastically and athletically I had always held my own, but facts
and figures are so quickly forgotten after the tests are taken. I never
made the important honor roll, the social honor
roll. I kept to myself a whole lot, because I just didn't know how to
navigate the interpersonal waters around me, secretly envying others who
managed to tread bravely through all three terrains. FAST-FORWARD 40
years...
In hindsight, I'd say our paths were meant to converge. Our friendship began as a lot of other adult friendships do, involving work. I hired him to do some videography and recording for me, as I was embarking on my musical career. It proved to be a wonderful working collaboration. He truly believed in the work we were doing, as much, if not more, than I did! But even more importantly, he believed in me. In truth, I gotta say, that I didn't truly believe in myself at that point...
I haven't mentioned our age difference. The year I graduated from college, he was taking his first steps. That said, a time came when our digits were entered into each others' phones and we started regarding each other as more than merely co-workers. We became friends. Whenever I've struggled with my role as parent to my adult children, he's given me perspective. As he's pondered his life direction following college and beyond, I've been there, sharing my own vantage point. So THAT'S what this friendship thing is all about...having someone to listen and share and understand and care. No matter what. Unconditionally.
I didn't learn to truly trust and celebrate friendship until I was in my 50s. Maybe that's why it is so precious to me, and why I was empowered to commemorate its importance in song. I wrote this song (entitled "less than 3" or "<3") in 2013 and debuted it at Life's a Song Workshop in Port Aransas, TX. I'd be honored for you to click on the following link and give the song a look and listen. I hope it touches your heart and strikes a chord. And, of course, videography is by my friend...
Until next blog, peace and love...Dorothy C. LeBlanc
