James M. Redwine

Janie

On Her Own

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Our son, Jim on right, along with Canadian Platoon Leader & local Afghanis, 04/2002

Abraham Lincoln said he chose to not be a master because he would not choose to be a slave. Life is better if we get to make the choices for ourselves. We may choose unwisely but we would rather be wrong than be told what we can do. Independence of thought is usually within our control but independence of actions, for some, may depend on the largesse of others. Should we lose our independence when we have lived free for years it would be difficult to adjust. Afghanistan comes to mind. Afghanistan? Hey, folks, these columns do not need to be logical, they only need to be in writing. But it is not only the independence of women in Afghanistan that is my current concern but the independence of my older sister in Missouri.

Jane is currently in a hospital bed waiting the results of an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) test after her most recent fall. When we talked by phone this morning she spoke those dreaded words each of us may someday face, “This may be the end of my independent living.” Janie’s husband of more than fifty years passed away in 2012. She led a full life of public service before Bruce left her and has continued on her own until now. Janie has always been the go-to person for others to get things done. I fear an adjustment may now be required.

Janie grew up with three brothers. While our parents both worked outside our home, Janie used her good sense to keep our oldest brother on task and her two younger brothers from mayhem. Unfortunately, she moved out when she got married and left us to fend for ourselves. Now it may turn out she can no longer render assistance to others and may need help herself. I question whether such a paradigm shift will be a positive development. On the other hand, Janie has always done for herself as she did for others, or in her brothers’ cases, to others, so she may very well be back in charge of her life soon.

But let’s return to Afghanistan. When our soldier son spent a short portion of his Iraq war-time service in Afghanistan he became convinced the Afghan people held several loyalties higher than that to the country of Afghanistan. Jim concluded the Afghan men he met, he had no contact with women, were loyal first to their families, next to their particular tribe of which there are many, then to their religion and finally to what Americans call the nation of Afghanistan.

America has done for nation building in Afghanistan about what we did from 1492 until modern times “for” Native Americans. We must be slow learners. On the other hand, the Crusaders also sought to impose their religion on the Middle East. We may see ourselves in the faces of the male Taliban “infidels”.

I was raised by an independent mother and an independent sister. My wife, Peg, fits right in with them. When cable news shows Afghan females being returned to the times before our American invasion, I cannot but think of how I would feel if in their place. President Lincoln said it and I believe it. Of course, I also believe others should have the right to practice or not practice religion as they choose. So, I suppose I will continue to resent the TV images as I hope for Janie to be able to continue her independence and for Afghan females to find the same rights.

 

“That’s My Story …”

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Before the scales fell from my eyes my big sister would use me as a test subject for her early cooking experiments. In the summers before I started first grade Janie would order me to sit at an imaginary table and eat what Janie imagined to be food. The table was actually the sun-baked Oklahoma dirt and the food was pies she mixed up using that same dirt, water from a garden hose and bird eggs she stole from furious sparrows. Actually the mud pies tasted about as good as some of our neighbor lady’s homemade lye soap Janie also told me was fudge.

​As I matriculated to grade school Janie was involved in Home Economics in high school. Now her cooking was for credit and as she was always our parents’ favorite I and our other two brothers were expected to test her culinary concoctions and rave about them. This was hard to do when most of what she tried to feed me got slipped to the dog under the table. I particularly remember being force fed something Janie called orangey coated biscuits. The dog had a problem for three days.

​Now before you conclude I blame my sister for my addiction to packaged foods let me say Janie somehow managed to make herself into a fine gourmet cook – after she left home! Her erstwhile mud pies are now delicious brownies and her ghastly orange biscuits are now wonderful home baked breads. Of course, since I only get her current creations as Christmas gifts, she has quite a bit more to atone for.

​This Christmas Janie sent Peg and me an assortment of Grandma’s sour cream fudge, Mom’s peanut brittle and Janie’s own original chocolate chip cookies. She had carefully packaged them and sent them to us via FedEx. We could tell Janie had filled the offerings with labor and love. Unfortunately, the FedEx driver went beyond the call of duty when he delivered the box to our rural home. He pushed it through the pet door of our garage in an effort to protect it from the elements and varmints.

​When I got home from work I pushed the button to raise the garage door that also contains the pet door. I was looking straight ahead when I felt the left front tire roll over an object on the garage floor. Naturally I backed up and ran over it again. The contents of the box I ran over twice reminded me of those happy days of childhood. However, the mashed up goodies tasted a great deal better than the scrambled sparrow eggs. Janie need never know!

The Birthday “Girl”

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My sister is not an antique. She is sometimes cranky, opinionated and usually stuck in the last century. However, she is not an antique.

Those few of you who actually read this column either know Janie or have heard of or from her. She is known for railing against many things, as old people often do, but usually saves her most acerbic wit for her three brothers. As Daddy’s favorite and Mother’s pet Janie could never accept her status as a possible antique.

No, Janie is more like a superannuated coquette with political views that do not gladly suffer fools and opinions which are of the adamantine variety. But an antique, not so fast.

Delores Jane (Redwine) Bartlett cannot be an antique because she still travels to Europe and preaches frequent sermons as a lay minister in several churches. Please be warned if you should be in one of her congregations: she was a college psychology professor and is still in recovery.

My sister may be intelligent, generous and of a happy heart, although she, as other older people, has endured some of life’s bitter slings and arrows. However, she is not an antique, as of yet, because, Gentle Reader, by definition an antique must be at least 100 years old and on July 23rd she will be only 80.

Well, those of you fortunate enough to know Janie and those of us blessed to have her in our family, know what a unique treasure she is. I, of course, as her much younger brother am just glad she’s a lot nearer to being an antique than I am!