48 Birthdays

 

I have a birthday this month, # 67. Recently, I thought about my Mama. She was only 64 when she went home to be with Jesus. I miss her more than just about anything. 

It occured to me that Mama has missed 48 of my birthdays. She never saw me finish high school. She never saw me marry. When I went to Europe, she was not there to see me off, not once but twice. Nor was she there to greet me when I came home.

When my children were born, Mama was not there, nor was she when my granddaughter was born. Mama never rocked my sons or granddaughter. Mama never told them stories about my childhood nor read them stories from books. She never sang Hobo Bill, The Railroad Bum to them, nor Rock-a-Bye-Baby. 

When I needed advice or was in pain, she wasn't there. When I needed prayer, she wasn't there. When my husband died, I wanted my Mama but she wasn't there. My aunt and uncle stepped into as surrogate parents when Mama died but there has always been a hole where she stood. 

Mama never saw me go to college. She never read my articles in the college paper, never read the writing I did in other areas. She never witnessed my graduating from college. The first of her descendants with a degree and she missed it. Magna Cum Laudy, Mama! Can you believe it? I have as brief image formed in my mind of her standing in the audience smiling broadly. It isn't real. She wasn't there. And there is an echo of her voice from a long time ago where she said, "My girl can do anything." 

48 birthdays, Mama. So long, so very long, Mama. 

Line Dried Sheets

Have your children ever experienced sleeping on cotton sheets that were dried in the sun? If they haven't, you've deprived them of one of the most exquisite sensations in life and a marvelous memory to carry with them. 

The feeling of slipping between cool cotton sheets and putting your head on a cotton pillow case is something no one can describe adequately to you. You must experience it. 

There is also a special scent to them that only comes from line drying. I pity those who have severe allergies and cannot experience this. Being tucked between those crisp sheets and surrounded by the sweet scent of the outdoors at bedtime is one of the most wonderful memories from my childhood. I have carried those memories with me and now, my granddaughter has learned to appreciate crispy, sun-dried cotton sheets. 

Today, my white cotton sheets are out on the line, drying in a boiling sun. Those in the photo are not mine. All my favorite sheets are white, though I have a couple of pastel colors. I also still have a few printed sets. I stopped buying those when I realized only one item in any set, usually the bottom sheet, will get too worn to use and I had either throw them all away or create mismatch sets. And that sets my teeth on edge. 

I have several microfiber sets I bought when the old sets wore out and I couldn't find affordable cotton sets. Just try to find a set of cotton sheets, or try to find a single fitted sheet. I've walked Walmart, Target, and cruised Amazon many times and couldn't get cotton. That changed recently when I found Thread Spread on Amazon. I was overjoyed to find a single fitted sheet, 400 thread count, for less than $20. That's astounding. 

Why am I telling you this? I don't know. Maybe because when I was hanging up those sheets, I realized how much it felt as if I was back to a different time and place. I've hung so many sheets on so many lines. I was in my 30s before I had a dryer. We lived in the south, where it is hot and clothes lines are standard with nearly every home. If I recall, we even had clothes lines in some apartments we lived in. And in Germany, we had a line on our balcony that the owner had installed. In the winter, Jerry's underwear froze, but it eventually dried. 

Anyway, I enjoyed the sensation of hanging up those sheets and pillowcases. I was so caught up in the act that I didn't really notice how hot it was until I came inside. When I sat down, I had this flood of memories of Mama hanging up clothes in the backyard while singing hymns. Or yelling at us to stop fighting. Or calling Daddy to come take care of something. I remembered Michael in a walker darting around me while I hung clothes, and Jerry took photos of it all. I still have that photo. Warm days, gentle drying breezes, and cool, crisp sheets at the end of the day to dream sweet dreams. 

Here's a challenge. Hang out your sheets and when you tuck your child or your grandchild into bed on them, tell them about your memories of line dried sheets and your Mama as she hung them out. I hope they're cotton sheets. If not, buy a set to use for just this purpose. The memories are worth it. 

Songs in My Heart

 I'm not feeling well today. I hurt all over, that wonderful steamroller sensation one gets when you lie down in the road in front of one. I lay down earlier before getting a showerand examined all my pains. They are as follows:

The bottom of my feet, ankles, knees, hips, the palms of my hands, elbows, my left upper arm and shoulder (PT yesterday was extremely rough). The swollen lymph node beneath my left arm hurts and my neck skin hurts. I also have a mild headache.

My sister, Roselynn, asked if I had a fever because my face is very red. I don't run fevers but I am hot after my shower. 

While we sat and chatted, I had a memory. I do not know why, but I remembered a song my Mama used to sing. I can still hear the tune but could find no trace of it online. There are other versions, but they're not at all the same.

A Psalm of Life

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

   Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

   And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

   Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

   And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

   In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!

   Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,— act in the living Present!

   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

   We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

   With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

   Learn to labor and to wait.

Imagine my surprise as a teenager when I picked up a book of Longfellow's poems and found that poem in it! He became my favorite American poet, and I found many poems in the book I loved. I read a lot of classic poems as a teenager and it continued as an adult.

Mama also knew the following poem. See, in the period she grew up, education meant learning a variety of things and the educated person knew poems and pieces of classic literature, even little country girls. The following poem is one I always loved, and I too memorized it. However, today, when trying to recite it, I found I'd forgotten most of it. Mama never forgot a word of either of them. 

The Arrow and the Song

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong,

That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak

I found the arrow, still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend.

I don't think poems today have such sentiments. People don't think of life as anything but a party until the music stops. And they don't go looking for songs in the hearts of friends.  

Cleaning Closets & Coming to Terms

Ah, children! Fall arrived with a whisper. The days gradually cooled, and the nights became cooler. The last month I've had so much pain I hardly noticed. 

But yesterday I woke to find I had so little pain that I felt refreshed. That allowed me to get small things done. Yesterday was a good day. 

This morning, I woke hurting all over and found a light rain fell during the early morning hours, explaining why I felt so bad. It's taken hours to feel functional, but the sun is shining now, so  I'll take it. 

Mike came over to do his laundry and is napping on my sofa. I didn't realize how bad his sleep apnea was until the weekend trip to Ohio. He's worse than me, I suspect. 

I'm coping with the stresses of Sarah being gone, but it has been difficult. The house is simply hollow without her, and I have times when I hear her down the hall or I feel that I need to get her to bed. That's probably the worst.  

I'm isolated to an extreme degree. No one comes here, but Mike and I can't go very many places with my suppressed immune system while Covid is still a genuine threat. I want to go to church so bad and may try this weekend. It isn't just the virus. I have trouble sitting or standing for long periods. My back and legs are still a problem. 

I have figured out what is causing the severe leg pain. My hips and legs have hurt so bad for months now and I've tried everything to get relief. I could barely walk most days. This week, I went into commando mode. The doctors keep blowing me off, so I used one of my topical meds that I don't use often. There is risk associated with Diflonec, but my pain levels became unendurable. So, I started plastering my hip and lower back with this medicine. 

Hips are difficult to medicate this way. Unlike knees, the hips are deep in the tissues and are a socket in addition. Getting topical meds to the affected areas is nearly impossible. In the past, I found that by putting one foot on a stool, the rounded part of the hip joint is more pronounced. So, I propped my foot on the toilet and put the medicine on and all around that area on each leg. I also do the area to either side of my lower back, closest to the hip. I have been doing it three to four times a day and wearing a Diflonec patch on my back at night. The pain is better, but at some point they're going to have to look at this for a better solution. Or I'm going to be in a wheelchair in terrible pain.

I've done no writing, focusing instead on getting rid of stuff. I have to work in small time spans and focus on a specific area, but I've cleared out some drawers. I must completely gut the closet in the spare room and organize that room. As I'm cleaning things in other rooms, if there is something I need to keep it goes in the spare room. I also need some shelving in there for my sewing and crochet items. At the moment, they're all over the house and I want them centralized. 

 I'm attempting to get rid of clothes I've finally decided I'll never be able to wear again. At some point, I have to just let go, give up. Things will not change. I'm never going to be a size 14 again. I'm never going to be 25 again. I'm never going to be me again. I have to learn to live with this body, this age, and who I am now. I don't like her much but, as I always say, it is what it is.

An unexpected disappointment came up this week. I brought my family dining table home from Mikes. We put it up but must not have tightened the leg enough. I had to move it and messed up the bracket. Getting a new one has proved impossible, so my only recourse is to have a metal worker create a new one. One is $125 and 4 is $150. Since I have neither amount, it isn't happening. I have to move it back to Mike's where he'll store it for me since he has room. I so wanted it up, but perhaps it is time to give up on it. Solid oak and 32 yrs old. No one is interested in it, and I have no family left to sit around it. I think it is one of the most difficult decisions I have to make. So many memories of meals, holidays, and game nights. I can get by with a tv tray but that table. We were so happy around that table. 

I suppose I should stop now. As I read back over it, I can't find anything that could interest anyone but me. And that's doubtful, too. I never thought of my life as exciting, but there was a place, a point in time, where things happened. Fun, exciting, and frightening. Life happened and I feel as if I missed it. I remember walking down streets in Frankfurt, Germany and feeling as if I was in a dream. I was, I think. Did it really happen? 

In case you had not noticed, I'm a mess. I'm broken in some way I can't comprehend. I can see it, and feel it. I'm not sure how or exactly where. I just know I have no way to fix it. 

I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Make the most of every moment, right now, while there's time. Living life on the ledge isn't always fun, but you'll make some wonderful memories along the way. 

First Memories

Billy Lavon Patch
Born: Oct. 8, 1959
Died:  July 10, 2018

My brother died this past week. They said it was a pulmonary embolism. That's a blood clot in the lungs. He was only 58 and so full of life. That smile you see? That was always there.  You would rarely see him frowning and if he saw you, he'd throw up his hand and give you a smile and say "Hey, how ya doing!" And now he's gone. The world has lost another bright light.

No, he wasn't famous or wealthy. He was just real.

Let me take a minute and tell you about the little brother I grew up with and what his life was like back then.

Billy was a cute, curly-haired kid and my younger brother. I'm the oldest of 7 and he was #2. We were raised by our grandparents, Mama and Daddy, a long story to be shared another time. As children, we were close but drifted apart as teenagers for a bit. When I married, he felt betrayed because our Mama had died and I left home. We became closer after that but Daddy remarried and the new wife didn't want a teenager in her life and Daddy sent him away to live with our mother. Another betrayal but he coped and grew close to our other siblings who lived with her. Eventually, Daddy was sent away too when the new wife got all she could from him. He brought Billy home and said he'd made a huge mistake and would never do that again. I think they both suffered during that period.

My first clear memory of Billy was not when he was a baby. It was when they sent for Mama to come and get him. You see, he originally lived with our mother and when she remarried a GI, she took him with her. Doctors said I should not be removed from my grandparents. You see, I became sick because of the pending separation. So, I stayed and he left.

He was 2 when they told Mama he needed to come home. He was having bowel issues. He's stopped pottying because he was whipped every time he didn't use the potty. I can tell this now because everyone is dead. Even Billy. He knew the truth anyway. We were told my stepfather whipped him but after I grew up, I believe it was our mother that caused the problem. But I digress.

I remember Mama and I boarded a train in Mobile, Alabama headed to Columbus, Georgia to pick Billy up. It was my first train trip and it was exciting. I remember sitting in seats that faced one another and I liked sitting across from an adult in my own seat. Mama faced front and I sat opposite, facing her. I was only 5. I remember the train stopping on a trestle and I looked out the window. Far below was a rocky creek flowing under us. It was so exciting and as clear in my memory as a snapshot.

When we arrived in Columbus, I still remember the apartment house. It was a two-story shaped like an L and inside, we climbed these huge dark wood stairs. On the second floor was my mother's apartment. The next few moments are like a movie in my mind. The door opened and I went in first. Billy was lying on a bed in the room, bedclothes all mussed and piled up. I can't remember that room. All I see is this tiny curly-haired boy pushing up on the bed and sitting, and a beautiful smile stretching across his face when he saw us. Today, that memory is bittersweet. He was such a lovely little boy. The redish brown curls made him look like a cherub. I remember his arms going around my neck. And the memory ends.

We brought him home.

Crackers & Mayo

I have this memory from my childhood of standing on the sidewalk near home and thinking I wanted a snack. I went home and pulled out the Premium Saltine Crackers. That is the only kind Mama bought unless money was tight.  I also took out a jar of mayo and made "cracker sandwiches". Oh yes, I did.

This was a true southern snack that I suspect a lot of other southern children in those days enjoyed. I know my brother and I did and several of our friends.

Fifty years later, that memory is as clear as a digital photo. I can still see the sun shining and feel the sidewalk on my bare feet. The crackle of the cracker packet is loud as I open it. The mayo spreads smoothly over each cracker and I resist eating a single one until all my cracker sandwiches are made. Then, I scoop them up and head back outside where I sit on the steps and enjoy crackers with mayo. Yummm.

My sister recently found mini-Premium Saltine Crackers and Sarah just loves them. I was amused by them and the fact that my favorite snack was the normal sized ones. She was eating some one afternoon and I asked her had she ever eaten them with mayo on them. She responded with her typical "yuk". I got the jar of mayo from the cabinet and took one of her mini crackers. Using a spoon, I took a small amount of mayo (they are very mini) and covered the cracker. I was slammed 50 years back in time. It was wonderful.

Sarah watched with interest as I ate. After a moment, she said, "May I try a little of that?"

I made her one and she took a bite. When a person really falls in love it is instant and you can see it on their faces. Those tiny crackers and mayo were a hit. Since then, she's asked for this cracker snack a few times and we usually share the treat.

For her, it is different. She gets a handful of these tiny crackers on a plate, a spoon of mayo, and dips the cracker in the mayo like a chip.

For me, it is something very special to watch her enjoy it. I can't explain it well, but it is as if we've both stepped into the past in some way. I'm eight years old, sitting on the front steps, eating my cracker sandwiches and Sarah is sitting there with me dipping her crackers into the mayo. It is a sunny day and I can feel the wood steps beneath my bare feet. We both take a bite and close our eyes. Yummm.

What's Happening In My World

You know I am always looking at the flow of my life and how it is working. If life were a clock, I'd have assembled and disassembled it many times over. Sometimes it works better. Other times, not so much.

The current week has been hectic. Sarah started 3rd grade on Monday. She came running into the house after school yelling she loved it. I hope the romance last but we all know how relationships can turn on you. Her most exciting thing was "no homework". She thinks this will be a permanent thing. I haven't had the heart to tell her that the paperwork I read wants her working on things at home. We're going to have to create a "chore" schedule just to keep her encouraged.

I've done more crochet this week than I have at any one time in years. I've made several items and started on a new one last night.I really enjoy making these coaster cozies. I have six of my own and they work better than anything I've ever used.

They're designed to fit over the round stone coaster you buy at Walmart on aisle end caps. They come with a wooden holder but once the cozy is on it, they won't fit in the holder. I don't care. They're pretty and you can stack them. They look really nice on the table and are functional. Pretty furniture you worked hard to create or buy should be protected. I think I'm going to make a doily to match them.

 When dirty, you pull them off, wash and put them back on. If you have extras, you don't have to wait for the laundry to get done. The ones at right are a gift for someone. The yarn is Hobby Lobby's I Love This Yarn. It is a new cotton they've created to replace the Sugar n' Cream brand. I actually like it much better. It is a bit softer and easier to work with on small items. They have a ton of colors, too.

The other items I finished last night is the "rug" I was working on from yarn in my stash.Photos do not do this yarn justice. It is so beautiful. I do wish it was softer but it just looks gorgeous. As you can see, the item is not really big enough for much but a throw rug. I just used all the yarn I had left from a previous project. It is really warm and I almost considered it as a lap throw but it barely covers my lap and falls just below my knees. Not really enough to bother with when I have larger throws to hand.

This is a Red Heart Yarn, as I've mentioned before. I loved making this but by the last round, I was getting bored. I used no pattern, just started crocheting in the round and when I finished a row, I figured out what I wanted to do on the next one.I tried to vary the rows. I have some that are single crochet, some double crochet, and some treble crochet. There are a couple of chain rows, and V stitches as well as a couple of mixed rows: double crochet and chains.

It wasn't hard but I made mistakes here and there. Once it gets this big, counting stitches is so tedious but for fans and shells, you have to have the right number of stitches to make it work. A couple of times I had to pull out several inches and work two stitches together to correct for miscounting. For the most part, only an expert might find my errors but this isn't to sell or give away. I'll use it. I am considering buying a  backing to put on it and make it slip resistant. Originally, I was going to put it in Sarah's room because these are the colors we have in there. However, if you saw her floor on an average day, you'd know it would be wasted on her.

I started on another coaster cozy using a small ball of yarn, left over from a sweater I made for Sarah. I think it will be really pretty. It is an extra so I can wash some one of my others. I am also making it in a brighter color.

I've written a little. I have to get the short story done now. So, I'm going to try and spend the rest of the week doing that. I'm behind in reading but I've been also been busy straightening out the chaos resulting from getting rid of the large computer desk and clearing out Sarah's room to repair the ceiling. Her room is more or less in order. There are a couple of items still to move but nothing major.

It is the stuff I took out of the desk that presents problems. I had no idea that desk held so much! And so much that I hadn't even looked at in ages. I found Jerry's driver's license, our military IDs from years ago, his USI student ID, and his VA ID. All had his photos on them. I found old letters he'd written to me when he went to Germany. They'd been stored in a scrap book I had in the book case that was in Sarah's room but is not in the den. They were very personal and I had to smile at how foolishly romantic we were. They were just sappy and drama ridden. Very "soap opera" to me. Did other young couples write such letters? I don't know.

For a brief moment, I remembered that girl and I longed to be her again. She was filled with so much life and she knew how to have fun. Jerry and I had so much fun. We had a lot of the same problems most couples have but more than anything, we had an amazingly good time. And I think it is that which makes life so very hard now. I'm not having fun. Sarah brings me so much joy and the days with her are almost as much fun as what Jerry and I had but it isn't the same. There is this huge void that I no longer believe can ever be filled or bridged or repaired. I want it to be, more than anything. But the reality is it is impossible to ever be in that place and time and to be that person again. Two people died on January 29, 2009. They just didn't bury me.

I won't burden you with more sadness. I'll leave you with a Sarah story.

Sarah is growing up. Recently, she found she had hair under her arms. Obviously, all girls go through this phase but she is a bit young. She'll be 9 in a few weeks. However, we had to deal with the issue. Although the problem wasn't great, it was noticeable, particularly to her. So, I informed her I'd shave the hair off for her and show her how to do it so when she was capable of managing she wouldn't be nervous. We discussed how this would mean it would have to be done all regularly after this. Anyone knows the sooner you start shaving legs and armpits the worse it gets. But you can't just leave it.

Anyway, we took care of it. In seconds it was done and Sarah said, "That fast?"

I just grinned and said, "That fast."

I left her and went to the kitchen. She must have gone to the mirror because the next thing I heard was Sarah shouting, "I'M YOUNG AGAIN!"

I laughed and asked her what she meant.

"I'm young again. Only old people have hair under their arms."

Y'all have a great day.

Remembering The Rules

Today I was reading a set of penalties posted on Facebook for parents to use with their kids. It focused on doing good things to earn points to revoke grounding. It was a brilliant idea. It reminded me of the set of "rules" we posted on our refrigerator for our sons when they were teenagers. When they got in trouble they had to read them and specifically focus on the item that applied to their situation. It was posted on the fridge for years and I remember when they finally moved out, I took it down and the paper was all stiff and the ink faded but it was still legible.

As I read over them again today it reminded me that I wasn't a terrible parent. I did do some things right and now, years after I wrote and posted these rules, I can look at my sons and realize that despite their flaws, we didn't do a terrible job. If I compare the positive with the negative I can see that something got through to them. I see caring and compassion men who show respect for others, well, most of the time. No one is perfect here. They love their country and respect its laws and as far as possible, its leaders. They believe in the rights of others and when those rights are infringed, they are incensed. They recognize the dangers of tyranny and want to fix it. 

They love God. This has always been so important to us. We saw how the world was failing and we feared that they would stray far away from their faith and never find their way back. And they did stray but we also watched, with great fear, as they struggled to return to that faith and to reinstate the values we tried to instil in them. We often feared the struggle would end in failure. Their dad is dead now but I know, were he alive, he'd feel so relieved at some of the changes in his sons. He'd be so proud of them.

I am blessed with good boys. There are things I'd change if I could but they became who they are because of who we were and how we raised them. And if there is something I don't understand about them or can't accept, I have to deal with that.  As adults, it is up to them to fine tune their character if it needs it. I hope we gave them the tools to do that. Reading those rules and seeing the results of our work, I think we might have done. I hope so.

Rules of Respect

1. Show courtesy to everyone. Please, Thank you, Sir, M’am, You’re welcome, and excuse me, are all keys that open doors. Everyone likes respect. You get what you give.
2. Ask first. Do not take something that is not yours. If you “borrow” without asking, it is stealing. Get permission
3. Wait your turn. Do not interrupt others when they are talking. Or, if you are not part of the conversation and need to speak to someone, “excuse me” is an appropriate way to get their attention if you have waited for several minutes.
4. Know who’s in charge. If you see a need or problem, do not give orders – find the person in charge and politely mention the problem. If you have not been put specifically in charge, allow the person in charge to give the orders.
5. Refuse to argue. Ask if you can quietly discuss the problem. The Bible says “a soft answer turneth away wrath.” Usually, it is hard to yell at someone who won’t yell back. After a while they get tired. Remember, sometimes it doesn’t work, especially if you have wrecked the car or broken curfew.
6. Allow the other person to be right. No one is right all the time but neither are they always wrong. YOU could be wrong. It is more embarrassing to loudly declare you’re right and be proven wrong than it is to keep your mouth shut and let others loudly declare when you are right.
7. Offer help. If someone is ill, physically unable to do a chore, or simply needs an extra pair of hands, offer to help. Do not wait to be asked. Offer kindly. If your help is refused, say nothing and allow them to do it themselves. If asked -- give your help to the best of your ability.
8. Respect other’s privacy. Do not ask questions about someone’s personal life unless it will affect you personally. For example: You do not need to know about someone’s sex life unless you plan to have sex with them. Do not tell secrets you have been told unless there is a danger involved or a crime. Do not listen in on others’ conversations uninvited. Do not tell something you have overheard in a private conversation. Would you want someone to tell your secrets?
9. Do unto others. If you want kindness, give it. If you want love, give it. If you want help, give it. If you want friendship, give it. If you want understanding, give it. If you want fairness, give it. If you want truth, give it. If you want joy, give it. If you want peace, give it. If you don’t want any of this, do nothing and you’ll get nothing.
10. Overlook the jerks. There will ALWAYS be someone who defies all of the above. And because of it, no matter what you do, it will never be enough or it will always be wrong – to them. Walk away and smile. If you have done your best and followed the rules, you have won anyway. Always, always, always let them go before you. When the axe falls, it will be their head that rolls.

You have been taught a set of values. If you choose to abandon these, we will not avert the consequences of your actions. If you get arrested, we will not bail you out; if you catch a disease, we cannot cure you or even get expensive medical care. Adult behavior requires adult responsibility. You are on your own when you set your own values and rules of behavior. If they conflict with our moral code, you must move out and support yourselves. We will still love you but we made our choices before you were born. We have not changed our minds since then and will not do so now. As a result, we may lose you but if we give in, not only will we lose you but we will also lose ourselves.