Shakespeare-Mania!

Tags

adoptee, Adopting Shakespeare, Adoption recovery, Love, Quotation contest, Robin Williams, Sonnet 18, The Shakespeare Papers

April is National Poetry Month. Not only that, it’s the BIRTHDAY month of the great English poet and playwright, William Shakespeare. For me, it means ADOPTING SHAKESPEARE- HIS LANGUAGE, HIS PLAYS, HIS SONNETS, and you’re invited to join in. In a week, the Sweet Swan of Avon (who lived from April 23, 1564-April 23, 1616) turns 457! To celebrate Shakespeare’s Birthday, please send favorite quotations to elaine.coleman2013@gmail.com, thereby entering my annual Shakespeare contest.   Also, tweet them, using my twitter name @TheGoodbyeBaby. Quotation competition takes place during the remainder of April. The prize, my two suspense novels (Beast of Bengal and All the Wrong Places, will be sent to the top contributor via snail mail. Past winners include poet/memoirist Luanne Castle (@writersitetweet). To honor Shakespeare and celebrate poetry month, read Sonnet 18 aloud to someone you love.

William Shakespeare

 

SONNET 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

The contest ends May 1, after which my novels will be sent to the top contributor. So, as the song goes, “Brush up on your Shakespeare…start quoting him now!”

Join Elaine each month for musings on adoption and life.

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Shakespeare-Mania!

Tags

adoptee, Adopting Shakespeare, Adoption recovery, Love, Quotation contest, Robin Williams, Sonnet 18, The Shakespeare Papers

April is National Poetry Month. Not only that, it is the BIRTHDAY month of the great English poet and playwright, William Shakespeare. For me, it means ADOPTING SHAKESPEARE- HIS LANGUAGE, HIS PLAYS, HIS SONNETS, and you’re invited to join in. The Sweet Swan of Avon (who lived from April 23, 1564-April 23, 1616) turned 458! To celebrate Shakespeare’s Birthday, why not  read Sonnet 18 aloud to someone you love?

William Shakespeare

 

SONNET 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

As the song goes, “Brush up on your Shakespeare…start quoting him now!”

Join Elaine each month for musings on adoption and life.

Sharing is Caring:

Tags

adoption, China-Burma-India (CBI), Gratitude, Letters, Love, reunion, WWII

I’m working on a new edition of my WWII book of letters, From Calcutta with Love, to be published in 2019 by Pajarito Press. Herewith, one of my favorite epistles. My adoption history begins with a 1930s love story, that of my adoptive parents Richard and Reva Beard. They’d been teenage sweethearts in Findlay, Ohio, they married in 1937, and they put off starting their family until my father-to-be earned his doctorate from Ohio State University.

For six years, while Richard earned his PhD in clinical psychology, Reva taught elementary school. When it turned out that they were not able to have children, they decided to adopt. The outbreak of World War II, however, further delayed the formation of a family.

Richard was drafted and sent to India. He served as a clinical psychologist in charge of a neuropsychiatric ward at the 142nd General Hospital in Calcutta, part of the China-Burma-India theater of the WWII. For 18 months, my future adoptive parents were separated by 6,000 months. My mother-to-be lived at home with her parents in Findlay, Ohio. She continued to teach school and inquired into adopting a baby. Without a dad in the home, however, adoption proved impossible.

Devoted to one another for a lifetime, Richard and Reva exchanged letters every day of their wartime separation. Sometimes they alluded to adopting a child; Always they reaffirmed their strong love and devotion for one another. My divorced birth mother attended college where Richard was a guidance counselor. As far as I can tell, she asked him to help her by taking my brother and me. I was five and my brother nearly two.

Years later as I read through my parents’ wartime letters, I was moved and inspired by the depth of their love. Of all the confessions of love, this is the one I most cherish…

Calcutta, India
May 29, 1945
Dearest Reva,
You asked why I had white roses delivered to you on May 16. It was a sentimental and romantic gesture in which the traditional meaning of the colors of flowers was invoked. But to my way of thinking I could as well offer a white rose upon the altar of my love for you each day. Purity is as much a lovely characteristic of your being today as it was the first time I touched your hand in 1930. By some miracle, your contact with life—with me— has not coarsened you. I reflect upon you and me in the car under the moonlight, in the front room listening to “Moon River,” and in the bed we have shared, I am aware that I have approached you each time as a man who knows his love for the first glorious union of body and soul

Waiting for the war to end, Reva lived for letters from India.

How much our separation has meant to me I dare not put on paper. Perhaps, just before I sail for home, I may try. But rather by far that I be permitted to demonstrate in a real way what I mean. You will not have to cling to me, you are me.

Perhaps in all this I am idealizing, but I think not. this low, weary year has given me time to consider many things, the significance of which has been blurred in the past. Clearcut, sharp and pure, etched against the certificate of our union as a palm tree silhouettes against the blue of a late Indian evening, is the world-crashing, world-engulfing, between-you-and-me eternal fact: I am so glad that you married me.

Goodnight, precious Ritter. I’ll help moisten that pillow soon, from which I have so often seen your large brown lovely eyes watching me. They are looking down on me now, Reva.

In devotion,
Dick

I’ve recounted my adoptive parents’ story in From Calcutta with Love-The WWII Letters of Richard and Reva Beard. Their love for each other became a gift of love for me.

*********************************************************************

Join Elaine for reflections on adoption, writing, hiking and life in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Your comments are invited.

 

Adopting Seven Simple Ways

Tags

adoptee, Adoptee Recovery, Brain Gym, Love, Mindfulness, outdoors, Self-Care, self-esteem, Stretching, Two-week commitment, Water

You can never love another person unless you are equally involved in the beautiful but difficult spiritual work of learning to love yourself. John O’Donohue: Anam Cara

Santa Fe, New Mexico is my home town. When I first moved here in the 1960s, the “City Different” was full of healers. We had primal scream therapy, past life regression, aura balancing, astrologers. Now, years later, the options have expanded. We have health practitioners of all kinds: specialists in acupuncture, reiki, western medicine, oriental medicine, Alexander Technique, yoga of every imaginable variety, therapy dogs, healing through horses. You name it, we’ve got it!

It was refreshing, therefore to attend a recent lecture by mental health counselor who presented easy, basic ways to “stay in tune.” Santa Fean Ishwari Sollohub (www.ishwari.org) suggested the following simple but powerful steps:

1. Morning Stretch/Hug: Before getting out of bed in the morning, take a moment to
   

   Be your own best friend.

   just be with yourself. Stretch your arms and legs, reaching as far as is comfortable. Feel the vertebrae in your back lining up for the day. Then sit up, hold a pillow to your chest, close your eyes and notice that you are breathing. Now, give yourself a hug, saying “Good morning (your name), thanks for taking a minute to just be. Let today be about learning to love – myself and others.

2. Notes to Self: Keep a small notepad with you during the day. Whenever you have an insight or question, jot it down. Journal or write about your insights; research your questions on the Internet, in books, or by talking with a trusted friend.

3. Water Ritual: Once a day, make a ritual of drinking an extra glass of water. As you swallow, take a moment to acknowledge this small act of self care. It may be helpful to do this just before or after a habit you already have (feeding the dog/cat etc.). You can post a note somewhere as a reminder. If you like, use a special beautiful glass for this ritual.

4. Breathe and Move: Get outdoors and breathe. Be mindful of breathing in and out as you walk to the door. Let the air cleanse and refresh you, resetting your mood if needed.

5. Brain Gym: While standing or sitting, reach your right hand (or elbow) across your body and touch your left knee as you raise the knee; do the same with the left hand (or elbow) on the right knee, as if you are marching. Repeat for about two minutes. While you are doing this remind yourself of all the things you are doing to improve your well being.

6. Notice the choices you make throughout the day. Whether you choose the “good” thing or the “bad” thing is less important than actually noticing that you have a choice. Try intentionally saying “yes” to something healthy and “no” to something unhealthy. Pat yourself on the back for paying attention to your choices.

7. Food and Sleep: Be aware of your eating and sleeping patterns. These basic functions are a big part of your well being. If either is troublesome, it may be time to make some changes. If you now what you need to do, start it. If you need help, reach out to get it.

Counselor Ishwari concludes her recommendations, “There you have it: a few simple things to try. By engaging in these small acts of self-care, you are taking responsibility for your own well being; you are learning to actively love yourself. The more often you repeat these gestures, the more you will get from the effort.”

It doesn’t need to be complicated, elaborate or expensive to bring about a difference in your life! Commit to do at least three of the above practices for at least two weeks. More if possible, but at least three. Following Ishwar’s recommendation, put reminders on your calendar. I’ve committed to this practice. I invite you, dear Readers, to do likewise. We are worth it.

******************

Note from Elaine:  I have two new books, one is a re-issue (From Calcutta with Love-The WWII Letters of Richard and Reva Beard), the other a novel (Hand of Ganesh). Publication dates to be announced. Stay tuned! In the meantime, please let me know if you try adopting the Seven Simple Ways. I’d love to hear from you!

Love Letter Straight from the Heart

Tags

adoption, CBI Theater, Gratitude, Letters, Love, reunion, WWII

White roses were my mom’s favorite flower

My adoption history begins with a 1930s love story, that of my adoptive parents Richard and Reva Beard. They’d been teenage sweethearts in Findlay, Ohio, they married in 1937, and they put off starting their family until my father-to-be earned his doctorate from Ohio State University.

For six years, while Richard earned his PhD in clinical psychology, Reva taught elementary school. When it turned out that they were not able to have children, they decided to adopt. The outbreak of World War II, however, further delayed the formation of a family.

Richard wrote about Calcutta, life at the 142nd General Hospital and missing “home, wife, and love”

Richard was drafted and sent to India. He served as a clinical psychologist in charge of a neuropsychiatric ward at the 142nd General Hospital in Calcutta, part of the China-Burma-India theater of the WWII. For 18 months, my future adoptive parents were separated by 6,000 months. My mother-to-be lived at home with her parents in Findlay, Ohio. She continued to teach school and inquired into adopting a baby. Without a dad in the home, however, adoption proved impossible.

Reva waited at home for the war to end

Devoted to one another for a lifetime, Richard and Reva exchanged letters every day of their wartime separation. Sometimes they alluded to adopting a child; Always they reaffirmed their strong love and devotion for one another. My divorced birth mother attended college where Richard was a guidance counselor. As far as I can tell, she asked him to help her by taking my brother and me. I was five and my brother nearly two.

Years later as I read through my parents’ wartime letters, I was moved and inspired by the depth of their love.

Here is one of my favorite Richard and Reva epistles:

Calcutta, India
May 29, 1945
Dearest Reva,
You asked why I had white roses delivered to you on May 16. It was a sentimental and romantic gesture in which the traditional meaning of the colors of flowers was invoked. But to my way of thinking I could as well offer a white rose upon the altar of my love for you each day. Purity is as much a lovely characteristic of your being today as it was the first time I touched your hand in 1930. By some miracle, your contact with life—with me— has not coarsened you. I reflect upon you and me in the car under the moonlight, in the front room listening to “Moon River,” and in the bed we have shared, I am aware that I have approached you each time as a man who knows his love for the first glorious union of body and soul

How much our separation has meant to me I dare not put on paper. Perhaps, just before I sail for home, I may try. But rather by far that I be permitted to demonstrate in a real way what I mean. You will not have to cling to me, you are me.

Perhaps in all this I am idealizing, but I think not. this low, weary year has given me time to consider many things, the significance of which has been blurred in the past. Clearcut, sharp and pure, etched against the certificate of our union as a palm tree silhouettes against the blue of a late Indian evening, is the world-crashing, world-engulfing, between-you-and-me eternal fact: I am so glad that you married me.

Goodnight, precious Ritter. I’ll help moisten that pillow soon, from which I have so often seen your large brown lovely eyes watching me. They are looking down on me now, Reva.

In devotion,
Dick

I’ve recounted my adoptive parents’ story in From Calcutta with Love-The WWII Letters of Richard and Reva Beard. Their love for each other became a gift of love for me.