Gratitude Monday: Sisterhood

Today is my sister’s birthday. I won’t tell you which one, but she’s living in retirement in Sedona.

Penny’s one of my favorite people ever. She’s one of those rare individuals with what I call the gift of happiness. Whatever crap happens, Penny does not load up with anger, regret or a chip on the shoulder; she figures out the best way through for her and then carries on.

It’s a remarkable capability.

Penny suffered a hearing loss that began with birth. It wasn’t diagnosed until she entered kindergarten; up until then the family just thought she was kind of slow. Ha, ha!

Yeah, classroom instruction was a challenge. When she started special ed in the 6^th grade, things got better. She took lip reading lessons, and used to practice with Dad in the evenings.

In the 7^th grade she decided she wanted to teach the hearing impaired. All the experts discouraged this ambition—they didn’t see her as the kind of student who’d succeed in the education field. Or even in academia. They thought vocational school was the way to go.

Well, ha, ha again. B.A. in English, two M.A.s in education and a full career in teaching at Alhambra High School with additional stints teaching ESL at night. Every Christmas she had about 80 gifts from current and former students. When she retired they held three separate parties for her.

I’ve always admired Penny’s tenacity. When she fixes her mind on doing something, you’d better just shut the hell up and stand aside, because she’s going to do it. She’s not seduced by instant gratification; once she sets her goal, she keeps her eyes on the prize and keeps going.

I have a theory about how Penny’s been able to accomplish so much: for a good part of her life she literally did not hear the gainsayers, so she developed the ability to not listen to them when she did hear them. I wish I had that kind of confidence.

Over the decades, Penny’s hearing got worse. (People wonder why I'm LOUD? This is one of the reasons.) Every cold caused more deterioration, so that when she flew, she couldn’t sit in the emergency exit row because she couldn’t hear any of the instructions. One time she was coming to North Carolina to visit me, and when the plane diverted to somewhere in Tennessee because of fog at RDU, she didn’t know what was happening until it landed and she could see someone’s face talking about it.

I’ve occasionally thought what a raw deal it was to have to go through life suffering through garbled conversations, not savoring the subtleties of a Chopin étude or only finding out you’re in Tennessee instead of North Carolina when the plane lands. I asked her about it once and she shrugged: that’s the hand she was dealt, so she played it.

In recent years, phone calls with her were more difficult. The last few I had were via a transcription service, so I’d say something, there’d be a pause and then she’d respond. Imagine trying to talk about some personal subjects this way.

But a couple of years ago, she did a lot of research on technology, outcomes and insurance coverage, and she got a cochlear implant. It’s like a complete recharge; back to full duplex communication. One of the first things she remarked about how wonderful it was to hear the birds singing.

Penny has opinions, of course, but she doesn’t waste a lot of time expressing the negative ones. This lends all the more weight to those she does share. Example: a relative-by-marriage spent some unknown amount of money to buy me something I never wanted and that personified the term “butt-ugly”. Stunned, I asked (somewhat rhetorically), “Why would she do that?” Penny never missed a beat. “Because she’s stupid.”

Now that I’m across the country again, I miss the ease of visiting her. We have a Christmas tradition: we cook grilled butterflied leg of lamb with a savory sauce, and saute of two squashes. You’re supposed to be able to make it in 60 minutes but it always takes us longer. Possibly due to the wine that accompanies the effort.

Anyhow—happy birthday, Penny. What a gift you are as a sister and a friend.