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Ah! Relationships. Doesn’t it just make your heart swell when you think of them? I am talking about the many types of
relationships that don’t take place on looking-for-love sites or under the covers. The ones that nurture and sustain us but
go unnoticed. One of the many benefits of getting older are the countless types of relationships I’ve been blessed to have
experienced.
When I started sifting through the various connections in my life, I took a trip all the way back to my childhood. I stumbled
across the memory of a woman who babysat me for several years. Mrs. Clark was a pillar of the community. Having raised
her own children, she was a foster parent to several other wards of the state years long before it became of national
interest. In her later years she was a babysitter for countless children, becoming more than a nine-to-five guardian. My
memories of Mrs. Clark are many. But what stands out the most is how she would engage me in conversations as if I
were an adult, sharing whispered and funny insights about other kids. Whenever I spent the night, she would insist that I
stay up and watch television with her, laughingly saying, “But you have to promise not to fall asleep.” It wasn’t until I was
much older that I realized what a kind and caring soul she had been in my life. It has been nearly forty years since she
died but I couldn’t write about nurturing relationships without remembering Mrs. Clark.
Relationships don’t just happen by coincidence because there is no such thing. Some relationships may take a bit of work,
but I don’t believe the good ones feel like work. The best of relationships need not be engaged in every day or every
month. Many relationships quietly bloom on their own over thousands of miles and long absences. Whether it is with a
neighbor, a store clerk, co-worker, daily commuter, friend, or family member, relationships and the cultivation of them make
us feel good.
We put a lot of energy into external activities, yet when it comes to nurturing our personal relationships we tend to give
them a secondary status. Perhaps it is because we believe that these relationships will always be there or that because
our loved ones know how much we love and care for them our job is done. Nothing could be further from the truth. Every
day as I become more aware of how fast time is fleeting and just how precious life is, I vow to pay a little more attention
and to make the time (no matter how pressed for it I may be) to stop to make the call, write the note, or to thank God for
all those who are still in my life.
With that having been said, I wish each of you the power to find that special relationship through service. It is a
relationship you will cherish for a lifetime.
The Way I See it...
The Way I See It is just that. True to VisibleWomanOnline’s mission to address a particular topic in each of the bi-monthly
issues, The Way I See It column is rooted in opinions and observations related to the topic.
Take it or leave it, my viewpoint may certainly not be the way you see it or then again, maybe it is. The Way I See It is my
personal soap box. Yes, I said it. After all, the way I see it, we all have a right to free speech whether it offends or uplifts.
Unfortunately many are silenced from speaking their mind or choose to be silent because it is easier to just be quiet. I leave
you with these words from bell hooks…”I made speech my birthright…talking back became for me a rite or initiation.”
I totally agree.
issues, The Way I See It column is rooted in opinions and observations related to the topic.
Take it or leave it, my viewpoint may certainly not be the way you see it or then again, maybe it is. The Way I See It is my
personal soap box. Yes, I said it. After all, the way I see it, we all have a right to free speech whether it offends or uplifts.
Unfortunately many are silenced from speaking their mind or choose to be silent because it is easier to just be quiet. I leave
you with these words from bell hooks…”I made speech my birthright…talking back became for me a rite or initiation.”
I totally agree.
Service is a Relationship
It must be said. With the election of President Barack Obama and his call for commitment to service, we should all become
involved on some level with an organization or a cause that speaks to our heart. If not now, when?
In 2006 one such organization spoke to me. After several months of seeing a public service commercial featuring an
elderly man reading a letter written by a ten-year old in which the boy says, “I don’t think anyone cares about me,” I knew
I had to get involved. My tears finally led me to call and commit to becoming an advocate for abused and neglected
children. The organization, CASA, (Court Appointed Special Advocates) has been committed to protecting and serving
abused and neglected children since 1977.
Even after several weeks of training I still did not feel prepared to take on the detailed aspects of a case that would affect
the outcome of a child’s life. But from the moment I laid eyes on six-month old Jacqueline, (not her real name) I knew I
would work tirelessly to do everything I was sworn to do to ensure she was adopted by her loving grandparents. For
nearly two years I learned the ups and downs of the legal system. I listened to the frustrations Jacqueline’s grandmother,
herself well-experienced in dealing with a bureaucracy riddled with cracks. How do you tell someone, “Everything is going
to be alright,” when you don’t even know if and when it will be? Throughout those eighteen months it took for Jacqueline
to be adopted by her grandparents, I grew very close to the family and to Jacqueline. I held her, played with her, and
was just as excited as her grandmother was when she started walking and talking. Finally the day came for Jacqueline’s
adoption. Inside of the judge’s chambers were her grandparents and other relatives carrying balloons and a big card
which read, “To Jacqueline’s new life.” Holding her on my lap I couldn’t help but wonder if one day she would realize just
how fortunate she was for this to happen. I hugged her because I was so happy for her.
Unfortunately, for many, this will never happen.
Unlike Jacqueline, there are thousands of children in foster homes and shelters who do not have relatives willing or able to
adopt them. For them, it must be a pain and longing that I can only imagine. They wait and hope that someone will see
something special in them and want to take them home. While we may not be in the position to become foster parents or
to adopt a child, there are countless other ways we can give of our time to our most precious resources – our children.
Clearly there are challenges and frustrations dealing with the child welfare maze. But there is a strong sense of purpose,
pride, and satisfaction that comes with knowing that you are providing a service on behalf of a child.
My little Jacqueline holds a special place in my heart. As her grandmother reminds me, I am now a part their family. To the
best of relationships and service, I say go for it!
Here is a list of organizations where you can volunteer to make a difference:
It must be said. With the election of President Barack Obama and his call for commitment to service, we should all become
involved on some level with an organization or a cause that speaks to our heart. If not now, when?
In 2006 one such organization spoke to me. After several months of seeing a public service commercial featuring an
elderly man reading a letter written by a ten-year old in which the boy says, “I don’t think anyone cares about me,” I knew
I had to get involved. My tears finally led me to call and commit to becoming an advocate for abused and neglected
children. The organization, CASA, (Court Appointed Special Advocates) has been committed to protecting and serving
abused and neglected children since 1977.
Even after several weeks of training I still did not feel prepared to take on the detailed aspects of a case that would affect
the outcome of a child’s life. But from the moment I laid eyes on six-month old Jacqueline, (not her real name) I knew I
would work tirelessly to do everything I was sworn to do to ensure she was adopted by her loving grandparents. For
nearly two years I learned the ups and downs of the legal system. I listened to the frustrations Jacqueline’s grandmother,
herself well-experienced in dealing with a bureaucracy riddled with cracks. How do you tell someone, “Everything is going
to be alright,” when you don’t even know if and when it will be? Throughout those eighteen months it took for Jacqueline
to be adopted by her grandparents, I grew very close to the family and to Jacqueline. I held her, played with her, and
was just as excited as her grandmother was when she started walking and talking. Finally the day came for Jacqueline’s
adoption. Inside of the judge’s chambers were her grandparents and other relatives carrying balloons and a big card
which read, “To Jacqueline’s new life.” Holding her on my lap I couldn’t help but wonder if one day she would realize just
how fortunate she was for this to happen. I hugged her because I was so happy for her.
Unfortunately, for many, this will never happen.
Unlike Jacqueline, there are thousands of children in foster homes and shelters who do not have relatives willing or able to
adopt them. For them, it must be a pain and longing that I can only imagine. They wait and hope that someone will see
something special in them and want to take them home. While we may not be in the position to become foster parents or
to adopt a child, there are countless other ways we can give of our time to our most precious resources – our children.
Clearly there are challenges and frustrations dealing with the child welfare maze. But there is a strong sense of purpose,
pride, and satisfaction that comes with knowing that you are providing a service on behalf of a child.
My little Jacqueline holds a special place in my heart. As her grandmother reminds me, I am now a part their family. To the
best of relationships and service, I say go for it!
Here is a list of organizations where you can volunteer to make a difference:
Ivy Pittman
|
When we think of the word “relationships” our thoughts immediately go to our associations
with other people. Yet the reality of relationships is much broader. We can have relationship
to material things – men puzzle over women’s relationship to shoes, women marvel at men’s
relationship to cars, or tools, or any number of electronic gadgets. But there is another
relationship that can be every bit as intense as the human-to-human relationship, and
sometimes even more so, and that is the human/animal partnership.
Several weeks ago, I had to say goodbye to my beloved cat, Cassidy. I had agreed to adopt
him thirteen years ago, sight unseen, to prevent him from going to a shelter without a “no-
kill” policy. He was already a year old, and there often isn’t a long tenure for older cats in a no-
kill shelter. I couldn’t bear the thought of an animal being put to sleep, especially if I could
something to prevent it, so I agreed to take him even though I hadn't seen him.
Cassidy arrived, all thirteen pounds of him, with his then owner one summer afternoon. As
soon as she put him down, he dashed up the stairs, used his paw to force open every closet
door, and after thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the apartment, ran down the
stairs, sat on the kitchen floor and began to clean himself. Clearly, he felt he had come home.
Dawn, the young woman who had to give him up, handed me the leash she had bought for
him, along with a half-full bag of IAMS dry cat food. I promised her I would take good care of
him. She left in tears.
Over the next thirteen years, Cassidy and I developed what I believe to be an unusual bond.
Every pet owner thinks his or her animal is unique and perhaps I am no different, but having
had cats all my life, including Cassidy’s companion cat, Molly, I know that all cats are not
created equal, nor do they behave thus. Very dog-like in his behavior, Cassidy would greet
me at the door when I came home and follow me around the house. He was not your typical
let-me-rub-my-head-against-you kind of cat. He had more dignity than that. But he wanted to
be near me at all times. When I worked at the computer, he would sit curled up on the
printer. He could anticipate when I was about to print something, and would get up to sit on
the printer table and do his best to “catch” each sheet of paper as it emerged.
His antics were manifold, and I remember them with a gentle fondness and an equal twinge
of sadness, but what I miss most is the unspoken communication we had. I didn’t tell my cat
about my day, or my problems, as some people do. For many, that is a worthwhile function
that pets perform—an uncritical, non-judgmental ear. Even though I spoke to him constantly,
with Cassidy and I, the communication was mostly non-verbal. With his amazingly large
gooseberry green eyes, Cassidy would gaze into my own unblinking for what seemed like
minutes at a time. Unlike dogs who tend to think of stares as threats, most cats will hold your
gaze, and Cassidy would maintain my gaze longer than most. At those times, I felt a
connection that I still have difficulty putting into words. I felt in touch with life, with something
deep and mystical; I felt a communion with something much larger than my myself or a mere
cat. It was a communication at the level of the soul. If there is such a thing as an animal soul
mate, then he was certainly mine.
I will miss the way he would gently tap my eyelids to wake me up the mornings and press his
claws into my cheeks ever so slightly when I tried to ignore him. Or the way he would
“complain” when I banished him upstairs for fighting with Molly, but what I’ll miss most of all is
the unspoken communication we had.
When I was considering the decision to put him down, I thought of the fact that he would no
longer look at me. Time and time again I would turn his face to mine and try to connect as we
had done in the past, but he would look away. I knew in my heart it was time, but I wanted
to fight. When I took him on that very difficult trip to the veterinary clinic for the last time, the
vet, not knowing our history, said to me when I kept insisting that he looked “well”.
“Do you know what I see when I look into his eyes? I see a cat who says, ‘You’ve done all
you can, and it’s time for me to go’”.
I knew she was right, but I needed the rest of the day to make the decision. I left him in the
hospital for several hours, and went back in the evening to bid him goodbye.
My only regret—well one of my regrets – was that I opted to have him sedated before he was
brought in to be with me for the last time. His eyes were no less beautiful, but they were
unseeing. I couldn’t lock eyes with him one last time. As I held him in those last moments, I
recounted his life with me. I reminded him of the first time we met, all the time we spent
getting to know each other, the good times we'd had, and how much I would miss him. I
would like to think that at some level he heard me, felt my hand stroking him, and that he
went to the place where the souls of animals go, and that he remembered that for the
thirteen years of his life with me, he was loved. Unconditionally.
with other people. Yet the reality of relationships is much broader. We can have relationship
to material things – men puzzle over women’s relationship to shoes, women marvel at men’s
relationship to cars, or tools, or any number of electronic gadgets. But there is another
relationship that can be every bit as intense as the human-to-human relationship, and
sometimes even more so, and that is the human/animal partnership.
Several weeks ago, I had to say goodbye to my beloved cat, Cassidy. I had agreed to adopt
him thirteen years ago, sight unseen, to prevent him from going to a shelter without a “no-
kill” policy. He was already a year old, and there often isn’t a long tenure for older cats in a no-
kill shelter. I couldn’t bear the thought of an animal being put to sleep, especially if I could
something to prevent it, so I agreed to take him even though I hadn't seen him.
Cassidy arrived, all thirteen pounds of him, with his then owner one summer afternoon. As
soon as she put him down, he dashed up the stairs, used his paw to force open every closet
door, and after thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the apartment, ran down the
stairs, sat on the kitchen floor and began to clean himself. Clearly, he felt he had come home.
Dawn, the young woman who had to give him up, handed me the leash she had bought for
him, along with a half-full bag of IAMS dry cat food. I promised her I would take good care of
him. She left in tears.
Over the next thirteen years, Cassidy and I developed what I believe to be an unusual bond.
Every pet owner thinks his or her animal is unique and perhaps I am no different, but having
had cats all my life, including Cassidy’s companion cat, Molly, I know that all cats are not
created equal, nor do they behave thus. Very dog-like in his behavior, Cassidy would greet
me at the door when I came home and follow me around the house. He was not your typical
let-me-rub-my-head-against-you kind of cat. He had more dignity than that. But he wanted to
be near me at all times. When I worked at the computer, he would sit curled up on the
printer. He could anticipate when I was about to print something, and would get up to sit on
the printer table and do his best to “catch” each sheet of paper as it emerged.
His antics were manifold, and I remember them with a gentle fondness and an equal twinge
of sadness, but what I miss most is the unspoken communication we had. I didn’t tell my cat
about my day, or my problems, as some people do. For many, that is a worthwhile function
that pets perform—an uncritical, non-judgmental ear. Even though I spoke to him constantly,
with Cassidy and I, the communication was mostly non-verbal. With his amazingly large
gooseberry green eyes, Cassidy would gaze into my own unblinking for what seemed like
minutes at a time. Unlike dogs who tend to think of stares as threats, most cats will hold your
gaze, and Cassidy would maintain my gaze longer than most. At those times, I felt a
connection that I still have difficulty putting into words. I felt in touch with life, with something
deep and mystical; I felt a communion with something much larger than my myself or a mere
cat. It was a communication at the level of the soul. If there is such a thing as an animal soul
mate, then he was certainly mine.
I will miss the way he would gently tap my eyelids to wake me up the mornings and press his
claws into my cheeks ever so slightly when I tried to ignore him. Or the way he would
“complain” when I banished him upstairs for fighting with Molly, but what I’ll miss most of all is
the unspoken communication we had.
When I was considering the decision to put him down, I thought of the fact that he would no
longer look at me. Time and time again I would turn his face to mine and try to connect as we
had done in the past, but he would look away. I knew in my heart it was time, but I wanted
to fight. When I took him on that very difficult trip to the veterinary clinic for the last time, the
vet, not knowing our history, said to me when I kept insisting that he looked “well”.
“Do you know what I see when I look into his eyes? I see a cat who says, ‘You’ve done all
you can, and it’s time for me to go’”.
I knew she was right, but I needed the rest of the day to make the decision. I left him in the
hospital for several hours, and went back in the evening to bid him goodbye.
My only regret—well one of my regrets – was that I opted to have him sedated before he was
brought in to be with me for the last time. His eyes were no less beautiful, but they were
unseeing. I couldn’t lock eyes with him one last time. As I held him in those last moments, I
recounted his life with me. I reminded him of the first time we met, all the time we spent
getting to know each other, the good times we'd had, and how much I would miss him. I
would like to think that at some level he heard me, felt my hand stroking him, and that he
went to the place where the souls of animals go, and that he remembered that for the
thirteen years of his life with me, he was loved. Unconditionally.
A Fond Farewell...
Relationship Also Means Saying Goodbye
Relationship Also Means Saying Goodbye
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| Photo: Phil Cantor Montclair, NJ |