4. War Comes; The Last Leg: The Psychologist

May 10.  Friday.  At office at 7:10 or so.  Been to mass every day this week, which has been my resolution this week: to basically throw everything up to God, and put all this trip business in His hands.

"When are you leaving?"

"Have you found a place to stay yet?"

Finally had a good night's sleep last night after my early morning arousals earlier in the week.  After Pearl and Bill took us out to dinner at the Aristocrat, I did not feel tired and stayed up till 1 a.m. packing.

Cathy told me yesterday morning (while I was in the can and she was getting ready for work) that she has made an appointment for us all to go see "the shrink" on Monday!  I couldn't believe my ears!  I was too tired to complain, however, and I did not want to get angry at a well motivated idea.  After I thought of it, the best I could do was that it was sort of unfair making this decision on her own (she had to wait several weeks for an appointment), plus I hated to be so, well, trendy.

I hate to waste the money, I hate to submit my impulses/thoughts or those of my children to review.  I hate to admit I can't do it on my own.  Cathy says she is a very private person, yet. . . .  I had extra blood work, etc. from the insurance/medical tester for cholesterol, prostate.  I feel we are submitting ourselves for normality testing, feeling we can somehow control life.  It is a false sense of security.

I can't think of a logical reason not to go with Cathy and the children, who are a bit nervous.  Jeffrey thinks we will run out of money since I won't be working and Robert is nervous of the long plane ride.  (Jeffrey is "not a bit" nervous of the plane.)  These are natural concerns, as is the anxiety over leaving friends and home behind.  There is, as well, excitement at the prospect of discovery.  Problems arise in life and it seems to me that having to come to grips with these problems can only help the kids in life.  I can't really say that it hurts to go to the psychologist, but I would have a problem if this leads to some kind of attitude that (a) one needs to go to the shrink for help as a matter of routine or (b) the shrink is the answer.

It is May, 1991.  33 years ago I was attending daily mass at St. Monica's and making my first communion. I thought that perhaps by attending daily mass this spring I would be able to remember, rekindle the thoughts of that second grader as he prepared to leave home for the year and go to England, leaving his best friend, Peter, behind.  Nothing much there.

May 13.  Monday.  High clouds still, after a Saturday of breeze and sun: warm, then cool when the sun went behind the puffy clouds.  Trend is warming.

I thought I would come into work and pretend I was Wallace Stevens this morning (he published his first book at 43, Robert Frost was 39), but it seems I am in such a hurry I just can't relax and think of nothing but words.  Something new pops up.  Thought I could write a discourse on language.  Imagine the power that words have held!  Jesus spoke words, Adolf Hitler spoke words.  The most powerful words in the world are "This is my Body," (and I remember, "Hoc est enim corpus meum"): the power of man to change bread into God.

May 14.  Tuesday.  Wind blew hard last night, 30 - 40 mph.

Had the thought this morning that our trip across the U.S. June 6 - July 4 is just like me vs. my father.  Our trip in 1958 brought us to England on June 16, my mother said, less than nine days (4 across the country, 5 across the ocean) after our departure from Malibu.

There’s another reason I feel as if I were a high school senior: not only do I see the end in sight, I realize that along with the new freedoms will be new challenges.  I haven't, however, had the time or the desire to think of our actual leaving. 

Cathy is now actually paralyzed by the thought of all she has to do.  If I had a nickel for how many times she's told me she doesn't have time to do her check book, I could buy her a dozen roses.  She keeps saying she is "overwhelmed."  Now she has determined we must have a farewell party before we go.  With the end in sight she is starting to get really worried.  I have tried to guide her: think of the end result, picture the goal, do not think of the distance, but the next step (the runner's philosophy).  She cannot, however, take her mind off of all she has to do.  I suggested she make a list of the things she has to do, and do a certain number each day (that was several weeks ago), but she hasn't.  I am afraid it is all now bearing down on her and there is nothing I can do but plod on in my own steady, seemingly unfeeling way.  I do pray for her everyday, knowing she has to conquer her beasts from within, not through me.

Went to the psychologist yesterday, Joan Owen.  Very pleasant, Ph.D. in psychology.  Tall woman.  Spoke with us, then the children.  Afraid I spoke too much.  Cathy needs to vent a little more.  Jeffrey said it was the best time he'd ever been to the doctor, he had the most fun.  They drew pictures with eyes closed, then told stories.  The doctor confirmed that the children handling things very well.  But Thomas is an issue and a June appointment has been made.

May 15.  Wednesday.  Clear, strong breezes, warm.

Talked to Nik S. about Yugoslavia.  He is from Croatia, which is largely Catholic.  Serbia is a southwest part of the country and has a Moslem population.  Ethnic problems.  Does not recommend that we go to Medjegordje now.

Still need a place in New York besides the Gorham.  Three weeks!!  The time for money is running out!!

May 17.  Friday.  Windy outside.  There is dust in the air.

I remembered yesterday that I am able to make the time slow down before we go simply by imagining the day we leave and wanting it to hurry and come.  Like the runner who wants the race or the run to be over, anticipation can make the run seem longer.  Thus, I could, if I wished, make the days seem longer; but then I think I would miss out on looking at every step along the way, smelling the roses, as the saying goes.  So I'll just keep on, each step, each day at a time.

I now need to make alternate plans about money.  I don't think I can safely count on PR fees coming in.  Do we let the car go or do we get the money and make arrangements for our left hand drive car?  A hard decision.  We could just buy a used one over there, though I know that concerns Cathy.

Cathy and I had a spat this morning.  Yesterday I packed a pillow that is supposed to go with us, and before that, some towels.  Then Cathy did not know which box was going to England (I had told her), even though she's packed something in the box.  I argued with her, told her which were the boxes and that, since she's been complaining about all the packing, I have tried to steadily keep packing.  She can't complain that she has so much to pack, then complain that I pack the wrong thing—at least so it seems to me.

May 20.  Monday.  Clear and sunny, lovely.  Lovely morning yesterday, breezy in the afternoon.  This is a big week, when much money is due!

May 21.  Tuesday.  Heard "Stairway to Heaven" on Candy's radio and decided to put on Dylan.  Bootleg Tapes, volume II.  These are great songs.

After I came back from noon mass yesterday with my raspberry yogurt, I sat at my desk, curled up, as it were and had a delicious feeling of cold, a shiver, yet at the same time of being protected, a good feeling.  I wondered if heaven would include feelings like that.  Is it so far beyond what we know that there is no comparison?

May 22.  Wednesday.  Sunny and clear.  Thunderstorm at 4:45 p.m. yesterday afternoon.  The days are definitely warm now, though the nights remain cool.  (Warm, it appears, is the difference between days in the low 70's to high 80's, after that it's hot.)

Purchased wool socks at the Fashion Show with Jeffrey on Saturday.  Felt great, made me think of England.

 I'm beginning to think that Cathy's worries and fears are catching.  All of a sudden it seems there is too much to do and not enough time.  I have blithely said, we will do it, we will get it done and knew nothing was a problem.  (How was I able to achieve such an about face in my own thinking?)  The fact is that now, with the departure date approaching, money has become very clearly into focus and reality is battling my determination, which is based more on blind hope than anything else.  I feel the same is true with regard to Cathy's recent possible medical problems.  I hope.  I know nothing will be wrong.  I believe there is no sense in worrying until we hear some bad news.  Am I being realistic?

We say goodbye to Daisy on Saturday morning at 6 a.m.  I will put her in the kennel and send her on the airplane to Spokane.  Jill will pick her up and bring her back to Hayden Lake, Idaho to see her mother and brother.

We were not offered seats at the Juvenile Diabetes fund raiser dinner this year (last night).  Not that we wanted to go, but it would have been nice to be able to turn it down.  We are already being phased out.

In hindsight, going to the psychologist was a pleasant experience, but certainly an unnecessary one.  The only really good idea she had, which I hadn't already thought of, was to buy a tape recorder and record the thoughts of the children. 

Speaking of hindsight.  How times have changed!  I'm sure we did not have as much stuff when we moved to England in 1958.  Was it necessary to rent a warehouse back then?  Perhaps Bekins storage for the furniture.  I thought about this a couple of days ago and believed I might have something very profound to say about possessions, but perhaps the only point to be made is that our (i.e., Americans') relationship with possessions has changed profoundly since 1958.  In 1958, 13 years after the war, I suppose there was still a sense of trepidation (did people save?), worry at the new world order.  The consumer products industry was still in its infancy.  ("Made in Japan" meant something cheap.)  Now the numbers and amount of things, the abundance, is absolutely incredible!  We have so many more things than my parents ever did, yet for what purpose?  To what end?

Everyone asks if I am excited.  Seems that my mind left work weeks ago even if I can't physically leave.  Worries tie me down, prevent me from enjoying a giddy feeling of anticipation.  I don't think I will feel that way until the 4th of June (my last day at work) or perhaps the 6th as we leave town!