Hypochondria

Part of being poor belonged to my Mother, Mary Madden's, chronic illness.

She frequently dialed 911: "Help me," she would shriek in a hysterical voice that demanded immediate attention.  "I can't breathe."  She would drop to the floor  and dramatically feign unconsciousness.

The paramedics (who were actually ambulance drivers in the old days with no medical traning) whisked her off on a stretcher as Mom theatrically anounced to the entire neighborhood:  "I'm havng a heart attack!  Help me!  I'm dying!"

The cost of the hospital, the doctors' bills, the medical tests and ambulance rides (as I mentioned before were frequent) in addition to the cost of Catholic School tuition was crippling to the Madden family.

My Dad, Earl Madden, was a hard-working mechanic who paid his bills.  Some of those bills created a situation that resulted in his children wearing ugly clothes and drinking kool-aid out of jelly jar glasses.

Defining Poverty

For me, being poor was drinking Kool-Aid out of Fred Flintstone jelly jar glasses at the dinner table and wearing clothes purchased at the Salvation Army or Goodwill.  Wearing ugly clothes was embarrassing, but as uncomfortable as I was, I thought of it as a "Badge of Courage."  If I can wear ugly clothes that don't even fit, and still conduct myself with honor, then I have learned to be who I really am.  It's character building.  Even as a child, I knew I was better than my clothes.

So, there is something to be said for the minimallist lifestyle.  It was fun to have all  belongings and furniture from the second-hand store.  If we broke something, we didn't get in trouble because we owned nothing of value.

One day, my sister, Mary Dolores, and I were playing catch in the livng room when I missed and the ball hit the lamp behind me sending it crashing to the floor.  My Dad, Earl Madden, picked up the pieces and took what was left of the lamp to the garage.  He came running back into the house yelling:  Play Ball!" 

Diamonds

Today I bought myself a diamond ring.  I've been cruising jewelry stores for a chocolate diamond ring  for about two years.  Yesterday, on our anniversary, my husband gave me a gift card.  I bought the ring to remind me that I'm no longer poor.  Growing up poor, as a member of the Madden family, was scary for me.  I'm still not over it.  Diamonds are the only cure.

"I Pity The Fool"

In an effort to re-capture my youth, I've been working out at Curves for the last six years.  In addition. I participate in a Zumba class twice a week.  I feel strong, tough, and ready for anything, plus I can dance the way I did in High School. 

I have developed linebacker shoulders and biceps that would serve me well in a parking lot fight.  So, to quote my friend from the past, Mr. T:  "I pity the fool" who would try to snatch my purse.

The Wizard of Weight Loss

You may wonder what happened to Grace, my counselor at Jenny Craig.  (See previous blog re:  "Grace Knows,")
When I returned from my trip to Seaside, Oregon, I was corralled by a strange salesperson and in her disconcerting style  informed me that I needed to spend another $400 in addition to the cost of food, which in of itself is exorbitant.  Can you imagine the indignity of it?  Apparently she didn't realize that no one addresses Judith in that manner.  After all, I am a Piestess.  How could she not recognize me?  So, I stomped out, but not without leaving a bit of Madden attitude.

So, now I' off to see the Wizard.  I feel that you may have already guessed who ranks as the Wizard of Weight Loss.  Of course, it's Weight Watchers.  Yea for me!

Madden Politics

When I was a child I watched the evening news with my family.  It was important to be politically informed in the Madden family.  My Dad, Earl Madden, felt it was part of who we are as Americans, Irish immigrants now free.

Even though,at the time, he had three children in the Parochial schools, he always voted for school levies and all issues pertaining to excellence in education.  (My Dad only had an eighth grade education because he had to work the family farm.)  He believed that all children belong to all of us and each deserves the best  we can offer.  When I was growing up in California, it was ranked as the number one state in education.

It was a matter of pride, a mind-set that each generation give their best to create opportunities for the future.

I met a young man tonight while I was campagning for Roger Freeman for State  Representative.  He was 30 years old and has never voted.

"What's the point?"  he asked me.

Political Agreements

I worked in a phone bank for candidate Roger Freeman, running in position 2 for State Representative in the 30th district in Washington state this evening.

The last time I worked in a phone bank was before caller ID was invented, when people answered their phones.  It was engaging, truely an experience that satisfied my need to feel that I can make a difference in this world.

Now, peole scan their calls and don't pick up.  I actually spoke to very few voters.  But, I don't feel discouraged.  I'm going back tomorrow and the day after that because I made a promise to work for this candidate and my word is my bond.

If you read "The Four Agreements," you know the first agreement is:  "Be impeccable with your word."

Food Stamps

I was shoppng at Fred Meyer today when I noticed the woman in the checkout line in front of me was paying with food  stamps or some sort of government voucher.  She held an embarrassed  stature with her head bowed.  Her oldest daughter (about 12) lowered her eyes to the floor in shame.  Her younger daughter (about 5) sensed the tension and hugged her Mother hard with strength and support. There was so much stress in this family, I could see it when the Mother gave me a sideways glance.  There was anger in her eyes, not with me, but possibly because she lives in a society where wommen wear diamonds and carry Coach purses to the supermarket.  I guessed that, if she had a choice, she would  do anything rather than feed her family with food stamps. 

Molly and Cailin

I spent the weekend in Sammamish watching movies and eating Chex mix with my daughters, Molly and Cailin.  They are so funny, and cute; and smart; and beautiful; and so prescious to me.   I love them beyond what is communicable.

My Mother, Mary Margaret Madden, used to tell me:  "Don't love your children too much.  You'll spoil them." 

She was wrong.

Grace Knows

A couple of weeks ago I traveled to Seaside, Oregon for a few days.  I ate pancakes and sausages, aka pigs in a blanket (appropriately named); ordered milkshakes for lunch; and ate an overabundant yet undetermined amount of saltwater taffy.  I conducted myself in this manner for several days.

I sent my counselor, Grace, at Jenny Craig a post card from Seaside saying I would call her when I returned. 

I have spent the last five months existing on a well-balanced 1200 calorie a day food plan and working out 5 days a week.  I lost 31 pounds and I've never felt better.

But, when I returned from Seaside, I didn't call Grace right away because I wanted to eat cookies and ice cream for a few more days which became more than a week of sugar wonderland.  I gained 4 pounds.

What kind of person works for 5 months to lose 31 pounds and then self-destructs in Seaside?  I'm sure Grace will have the answer. 

L. Ron Hubbard

I recently saw the movie, "The Master,"  It prompted me to re-read "Dianetics" by L. Ron Hubbard.  I've always been interested in Scientology, not as a religion, but as a phiosophy.  It appeals to my sense of logic.  For example:  "Man is not a reactive animal.  He is capable of self-determinism.  He has willpower.  He ordinarily has high analytical ability.  He is rational and he is happy and integrated only when he is his own basic personality." 

Madden Confession

I still  consider myself a Catholic (see previous blogs regarding confession), but I no longer believe that I am a "sinner."  I am a person who makes mistakes.  If we didn't try new things and sometimes fail, how would we create and discover?  That's why I don't like to make promises based on the expectations of others.  It infringes on my ability to be me. I will make a promise only if I know that I can keep it. Read "The Four Agreements.)  So, what is the difference between a sin and a mistake?

"The Age of Aquarius"

In my previous entry (Madden Penance), I may have indicated that I was a perfect child.  But, fast forward to high school and further to college - major mistakes encountered me.  It was the sixties and early seventies.  You've heard of it:  "The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius."  So, when I went to confession at the Mission in San Luis Obispo where I was a student at  Cal Poly, the priest refused to grant me absoluton unless I promised to never miss mass again (barring illness, of course.)

Remembering Father Dugan being grouchy and uncomfortable sitting in that little box for hours and recognizing that the line behind me was really long, I responded:  "I'm not going to promise that I'll never miss mass again (because that would be lying to a priest) and I'm not leaving here until you grant me absolution."

Forgiveness was given, the little sliding door slammed shut and guess what?

No penance for me!

Madden Penance

I feel grateful to have grown up in a Catholic family.  Possibly, my faith was my Mother's greatest gift to me.  I remember she used to make me go to confession every Friday night.  When you're 7 years old, how many sins can you commit in a week?

I tried really hard to be perfect. I was a straight "A" student.  I always obeyed my parents.  I didn't lie, cheat, or steal. But, every Friday I went to Father Dugan and confessed that I didn't clean my room, a room that I shared with two other people at the time.  Father Dugan would grant forgiveness and ask me to say 10 "Hail Marys" as penance.  I complied.

After several months of telling the same sin every Friday, Father Dugan said:  "Judy, is that you?"

"Yes Father," I replied a little surprised since confession was supposed to be anonymous.  I guessed he recognized my voice or spotted me in line when he came in.

"Why don't you just clean your room?" he asked.

"Because, I wouldn't have a sin to tell you on Friday," I explained.

"Tell your Mother to stop sending you to confession every week," he instructed. "No penance for you!"