Jul 5, 2011 | For Crying Out Loud, Honoring Others, Relationship Overdrive, Tlingit Culture Accentuated |
Irene and Clarissa at Celebration 2000
My mother passed away yesterday on a day of freedom, Independence Day, the 4th of July. I know my mother has been liberated from the restraint of her aged, wretched body. After intense suffering since the passing of our father over two years ago, including the recent passing of a son three months ago, she’s now a free woman. 8 days prior, she turned 86.
Irene with Clarissa and younger brother, Timothy - Summer 1958
Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe was born June 25, 1925 in Port Althorp, a place that doesn’t exist anymore, near Hawk Inlet. She was born during her family’s Summer fish camp to Juan and Mary Sarabia. They spent their winters protected from the cold North winds in the small village of Hoonah, near Glacier Bay. Eventually her parents worked Summer months at the Excursion Inlet Packing Co. (XIP); and in 1955 while working at the cannery, she met and married my father, William Lampe on August 20th. Nine months later, I was born. My parents dispute over my name. I would have been named Kate if I were born on June 5th, my mother’s eldest sister Katherine Mills’ birthday; or, I would have been named Patricia (i.e. Pat), after my father’s mother Patricia Rizal Lampe if I were born any other day other than June 5th. However, the day before I was born, my father dreamt a girl would be born to them and her name was Clarissa, a name he had never heard before.
William B. Lampe & Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe model the Eagle & Raven button blanket robes made by their daughter Clarissa - 1987 - collection of Tlingit & Haida Central Council offices, Juneau
Irene helps sew the button blanket wall mural "Following Our Ancestors' Trail" - 1992 - Private Collection, Austin, Texas
Most of her adult life, our mother helped support our family by working for various state and local agencies including the State Department of Education, Department of Health & Social Services, the Department of Revenue and Tlingit & Haida Central Council. A year after she retired in 1990, she said she didn’t know how she got all the things done that needed to get done when she worked a “real job.” She enjoyed traveling with her husband, hosting her grandchildren overnight, sewing quilts, crocheting afghans, taking daily walks and getting back to her bead work. She said she learned how to bead work when she was 5 (I have that 5-year-olds’ first beadwork), and that it felt good to get back to beading after almost a 60-year absence.
Sewing a beaded eagle for the back of her husband's vest - June 2005
One day I realized that I didn’t have a button blanket of my own. (Uh, huh. You are most likely thinking about the shoemaker who doesn’t make his own shoes and goes barefoot. Yep. That’s what I had been – over 20 years as a regalia-maker of robes for others, but not for myself nor family – yup!) Because I could create any kind of robe I wanted, from a Chilkat robe to a Ravenstail robe to a button blanket, I asked what kind of robe would I make for myself, and the answer was: “…you design the robe, coordinate the colors to match your tunic (I inherited in 1976 from my maternal Uncle Leonard Davis) and have your mother do the bead work; it will then hold special meaning for you…” – of course, why didn’t I think of that long time ago!? – The robe is made with deep red and deep brilliant blue melton cloth of 100% wool, antique, carved Mother-of-Pearl buttons, and machine-embroidered braid. The bead work and designs were sewn by my mother; I sewed the robe and did the embellishments with the embroidered braid and buttons. Below are images and details of the robe.
Clarissa's Black-legged Kittywake T'akDeinTaan button blanket robe - a collaboration with mother Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe who did all the bead work, and Clarissa designed and sewed the robe - 2005
*(For many our clan assumed the emblem as the common Seagull, and for many years I had questioned and doubted our clan emblem as a Seagull because the beaded representation of our clan designs was a bird that had a golden beak, black markings towards the tip of its wings and if there were legs portrayed in the design, they were black; plus, there was generally two birds hovering above a nest – to indicate that the nature of the bird: both parents raise their young. Due to my sister Irene Jean Lampe’s research a several years ago, we are now on the right track of the true identity of our clan emblem of the Black-legged Kittywake T’akDeinTaan.).
Small sea bird commonly dwells on cliffs near glaciers called the"Black-legged Kittywake" - Clan emblem to the Alaskan Tlingit T'akDeinTaan - beaded by Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe for her daughter Clarissa's robe - 2005
Close-up of the carved, antique Mother-of-Pearl buttons placed on the machine-embroidered braid along the borders of the button robe - Clarissa Rizal - 2005
When I put together the robe, I felt a need to “give back” to my mother. What could I do to repay her for the hours and talent she put into my robe? She would not take money from me. So I left the “debt” wide open until the idea came a year later when we were looking through her large box of all the bead work she had created over the course of 15 years since she retired in 1990; she had beaded flowers of all sorts and sizes and she had beaded at least 10 of the Black-legged Kittywakes. Suddenly, the idea popped into my head: “…sew up button robes for all of your Mother’s children and grand-children and place her bead work on each robe…” She loved the idea. This project ended up being a collaboration between mother, daughter and granddaughter; I sewed the robes, daughter Lily sewed the buttons, and we sewed down Mom’s bead work on each robe. We also sewed a couple more octopus bags fashioned after the one (on the right) that my mother had sewn. A weaving apprentice Julia Sai Carlson, had helped attach Mom’s bead work to the bags too. I had never sewn octopus bags before; it was fun. All the bead work was designed and sewn by our Mother. Below are the three octopus bags with Irene’s bead work.
The Octopus bags - August 2005 - collection of Robert Lampe's family
After my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary dinner on August 20, 3005, we went to their house to do a family ceremony of “bringing out the robes.” My parent’s children and grand-children were present. My mother gave a speech; it was an emotional time for her. (She had said she is not a public speaker – not even in front of her own family.) I was proud of our Mother. She spoke of how she kept the old bead work patterns that were once her Mother’s (Mary Wilson Sarabia), she mentioned that each robe had our clan emblem, the Black-legged Kittywake T’akDeinTaan, or a beaded raven (for our brother, Robert); she hoped that each of us would keep our robes long after she was gone. Directly after her speech, our sister Irene Jean sang and drummed a Tlingit song, and for the first time in our family, we witnessed all our family members dancing together; it was a thing of beauty, we laughed together. I felt this was a significant moment in our family’s life. My parents beamed.
We honored our parent's 50 years of marriage, with new robes for all the children and grandchildren - August 2005
Also, as part of our parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary, we took a 3-day trip to Excursion Inlet. Included in our entourage was my sister Dee, my kids Kahlil and Lily, my apprentice Julia and myself. We joined our brother Rick, cousins Janie, Linda and 2nd cousins Thomas and Lydia. I have fond memories of spending a few Summers in Excursion Inlet when I was a child; it was a good feeling to hear stories of my parent’s days as young adults – it was good for my own children to experience the place and to hear the stories. We tend to forget that old people were once young.
William and Irene walking the "boardwalk" in Excursion Inlet - the cannery village where they first met in 1955 - He was a fisherman with his own seiner and had stopped there for the Summer, she worked in the cannery - August 2005
Another thing my mother incorporated into her life as soon as she retired was a daily walk. No, not just a walk around the block, but a real walk! Years of working at a “normal” job kept her in the condition of waking at 5am, so by 6am she was ready to go. From the age of 65, she began walking at least 6 miles a day. Sometimes she would walk with her friend, Lillian Austin. Sometimes she walked with another friend, Rachel Carpenter. She paced a steady rythym. I remember a time about 10 years ago, when she was 76, our brother Bunny met us at the Hoonah ferry terminal and we walked into town. At one point, we noticed she was walking way ahead of us; none of her kids nor husband kept up with her pace! The following photos are a few places where we walked…
Walking the Flume - July 2007
Walking the Juneau tour ship dock...June 2007
Walking Auke Bay...August 2007
Taking a rest on the Dan Moller Trail...2001
Starting in 2005, my parents began to ask me when I would move back home, so in 2007 I moved up to Juneau for about 7 months. During this time we took a couple of ferry trips; one to Hoonah (and my father hadn’t been there for over 30 years), and the ferry to Skagway to drive up to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory (a place they would pass through when they took their annual Summer drive into the Yukon and interior of Alaska.) I also took my parents on day trips in Juneau they hadn’t been in many, many years like the Lena Loop picnic area, Auke Bay, Eagle Beach, Echo Cove, Thane Road, Evergreen Bowl, Twin Lakes and Sandy Beach; and to places they had never been like The Flume and the Treadwell Mine. I knew then what is confirmed now: Forever I will cherish the Spring/Summer of 2007 – the time I made to enjoy with my parents.
William & Irene walk the Treadwell Mine Trail...July 2007
About 20+ years ago, my father, who was an avid gardener, had too many packets of daisy seeds. (I say “too many” cuz I quote my Mom.) During those years, my Mother walked Twin Lakes often with the family dog, Nick. One day she took several packets of the daisy seeds and sprinkled them on the banks between the highway and the Twin Lakes path. Over the years, the daisies have naturally spread their seeds. Right now, the daisies are in full bloom. The following two photos are of my parents during one of our walks back in 2007. During this walk, Mom and I told Dad the story of her sprinkling the seeds which resulted in the entire banks covered with daisies. As we walked the path, although my father’s response was an “Umph”, my mother and I knew he was proud of her. My Mother smiled quietly; she was very happy to be walking the path with her husband.
Irene walking Twin Lakes admiring all the daisies she "planted" many,many years ago...July 2007
William & Irene walking Twin Lakes - notice the expressions on their faces - he commented "hmmmm....I guess that's pretty good" - and she all along smiled with a spirit of satisfaction and pride...July 2007
Irene's of late walking shoes and cane - July 4, 2011
In 1996, I designed and created a leather button blanket style robe in honor of my mother Irene Lampe, in honor of mothers around the world, and in honor of our Mother Earth. It is called “Mother Earth Child.” The circle is the earth and the womb; inside the “womb” a mother tenderly embraces a child, the child tenderly touches the lips while listening to the mother. The circle of human hands represents the constructive and destructive nature of mankind. The robe is made of forest green leather machine-sewn appliqued upon turquoise leather with antique Mother-of-Pearl buttons. The turquoise represents the ocean and sky; the green represents the land.
The robe is currently displayed in the Hilton Hotel lobby in Juneau; it is part of the permanent collection of Native art of Goldbelt, Inc. I wasn’t sure about selling this robe to be displayed in a public art setting. Yet, as I am writing about this topic, I realize the robe in a public setting can be a reminder to all of us how important our mothers are.
Sewing the leather button robe in honor of my mother, "Mother Earth Child" on the 1935 Singer machine - August 1996
When my mother turned 70 in 1995, I felt it was time to honor my relationship with her; I began drafting out this design. My mother and I were not just mother and daughter; we were friends. I cannot remember a time when we had any disputes or discord between us (except maybe when I was a teenager and she worried about me like most parents do with teenage children!). She was always respectful of me even though she did not always agree with some of the decisions I made in my life and I was respectful of her even though I may not have agreed with some of the decisions she made in her life. Our mother was kind and generous to all of us. She watched out for us, protected us, guided us and she had a great sense of humor. Like most parents, she was always “watching our back” even to her very last day. Even though she is no longer in physical form, I think she will still be watching our back. Our mother loved us.
I will greatly miss our mother. Yet, as long as I live and my memory remains good, I will continue to have a lifelong friendship with my Mamma.
In honor of Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe: "Mother Earth Child" - copyright Clarissa Rizal - 1996 - collection of Goldbelt, Inc., Juneau
Jun 27, 2011 | Health and Wellness, Honoring Others, Tlingit Culture Accentuated |
Close-up of yoke of Tunic #1 - synthetic fringe, machine-embroidered trim, bias tape, felt body
I must have been almost 16 when I met him. I think it was 1972. He was part of a team of four Tlingit men who had come together under the organization of Gilbert Lucero. At a time when the Native culture was just beginning to “sprout” back, Gilbert’s vision was to provide the young Native community of Juneau a holistic approach to help revive the Tlingit culture by way of evening classes for an entire month held at the Totem Center. Cy Peck, Sr. came in from Angoon to teach the Native ways of conducting various ceremonies, clan ownership of the sacred objects and the Tlingit language; A.P. Johnson came from Sitka and introduced us to the conflicts of Native law vs. Western laws; and Harry Bremner, Sr. from Yakutat taught us the songs and dances of the Mt. St. Elias people. (There was a fourth elder who was a part of the team and I can see his face so clearly but I cannot remember his name – he had a permanent smile on his face, not much taller than I, with a head of thick, white hair – he was the one who, upon seeing me for the first time, called out to Harry and exclaimed: “Harry, come quickly, come!…Take a look at this nose!”) – Harry came up to me and looked at my face and checked out my nose. (You can imagine how I was embarrassed!) Harry then said: “You!…I want you to be my song leader and drummer…!”). That’s how I officially met Harry K. Bremner, Sr., 40 years ago. Coming to know Harry during those next four years lead me down a path I have yet to stray.
Full view of Tunic #1 - sleevless with ties at the side
These are photographs of my very first Tlingit dance regalia. They are styled after Yakutat’s Mt. St. Elias dancers’ regalia. I had never sewn anything before. I followed Harry’s instructions; he was the designer and knew exactly what he wanted. One day Harry said we were going to the fabric store and making tunics…(for the five, young students who seemed most committed to the songs and dances.) Those students included Deena (Aceveda) LaRue, Doug Patterson, Victoria (Canul) Dunne, Catrina (Camposano) Mitchell, and myself. Harry was preparing us to perform with the Mt. St. Elias Dancers who were going to be touring Southeast Alaska (at a time when Native dance groups did not exist, much less touring dance groups, was unheard of). None of us had any dance regalia; as far as I know, these were our very first regalia pieces. We learned the songs of Yakutat and Mt. St. Elias. Over the years, whenever I see the dancers perform and hear the songs, I feel a sentiment and a peace; I am immediately brought back to a time when these things were new, we were innocent to what lay ahead, and all of what I learned then is still a part of me now, as Harry helped bring me back home to myself.
My first five hand-sewn tunics - yes, indeed there are 6 and I don't remember making that one, but I've included it with the rest of these tunics; it has my clan emblem on it, the T'akDeinTaan, sewn to the front. I didn't know how to do the formline art back then so I KNOW I didn't make that tunic!
A few years ago, during the 2007 Clan Conference, I was talking with Elaine Abraham (Ramos), who is a niece to Harry. She was telling me that Harry was talented at many things – being a tailor was one of those talents. He had learned while he was living in Seattle working at a tailor shop. My very first sewing lesson was a question Harry asked me: “How long do you make the thread for your needle when you are hand-sewing?” I shrugged my shoulders. He replied: “The proper length of your thread is the distance from the object being sewn and your arm outstretched…” He added “…if you have it any longer than that, it will be too long and your thread will always tangle…” I have sewn hundreds of garments, costumes and regalia since then, and I kid you not, every time I have threaded up a needle and measure the length, I have ALWAYS thought of Harry. 40 years, and most likely still going!
Brilliant blue felt tunic trimmed with white felt and a matching pair of cotton work gloves trimmed with yarn pompoms at the finger tips and outer sides of palm - with synthetic gold fringe - Harry used these kind of gloves when he danced; I don't think any of us had ever seen this type of dance regalia accessory before - nowadays, most of us are familiar to these pompommed gloves
Days before I graduated from high school, my mother asked me what I would like as a graduation gift. I replied: a sewing machine. She looked perplexed “Huh? You don’t sew…I’ve had a sewing machine for years and you’ve never used it…” I replied “Well, if I had my own, I would sew…” Graduation Day was on my 18th birthday. My Mamma loves me; I received a brand new Genie Singer sewing machine – I love that machine. I used to travel with my machine all the time! The machine is compact, light-weight and is able to fit under the seat on a jet! Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve sewn hundreds of items. I taught myself how to read patterns and make clothing. I made clothing for my children, family members and friends. I brought it to a Chilkat weaving workshop in Haines in 1985 and after class I sewed two dresses for my Chilkat weaving teacher, Jennie Thlunaut. (In fact, she is wearing a dress I made for her in some of the last photographs of her taken by photographer, Larry McNeil.) Although I have a sophisticated Bernina, and I have a classic 1935 Singer sewing machine in a cabinet, I still use my Genie on occasion. I’ve even bought this same model for each of my daughters. When my mother saw the results of her gift, and witnessed my involvement with the Native songs and dance, she sewed me a button robe with a beaded emblem of our clan crest, the T’akDeinTaan. Funny thing, I had no idea my mother could sew button robes!
Tunic #3 - trimmed with bias tape, cult felt fringe and single strands of beads and sequins at the bodice
Harry was from the Kwaashki’kwaan from the Owl House in Yakutat. He said the T’akDeinTaan branched from Yakutat area by way of a tributary called T’akDein of the Alsek River. He said because we were related, I could call him “Grandpa.” He was a gentleman and had a sophisticated dignity about his appearance. I am not saying vanity in a negative way; I speak of it with respect in reference to this man. He was in his early 80’s and was gently proud of his physique – he made me note his 42″ barrel chest slimming down to a 32″ waist with no potbelly whatsoever. He had a brisk, direct walk. His mind was alert. And there has not been a Native dancer of his age like him; whoa, could this man dance! When I visited him in Yakutat in 1975, I discovered he was still building a house, building a boat and still went fishing! (At the time, me being only just 16, I was unawares of how remarkable he was – but now looking back upon it, I realize this amazing elder was in great shape.) Harry was a hunter, fisherman and he played the mandolin. (Now that I think about it, this guy was my kind of man!)
Tunic #4 - this was the tunic I wore - red felt body with blue synthetic fringe, bias tape and single strands of beads and sequins
I had no idea until a few years ago my mother had kept these tunics in her closet all these years! She asked me if I wanted them; of course! I am thankful to my Mamma that she kept these; she knew the value in them. In the meantime, she watched me designing and making button robes after button robes. She probably knew that although I had “neglected” these tunics, as I was young and going out into the wide blue world, I may want them some day. Of course! They are like little treasures of historical documents with the young sweat of our DNA and they were an introduction to a way of life I had not even imagined. Because Harry and I worked on these tunics, they are part Harry and part me. Can you tell I have deep admiration, respect and love for this man? And I am thankful that my Mamma saved these tunics; I think my Mamma is proud of me. I am fortunate to have these pieces as they are the living proof of where I began as a maker of regalia; it is living proof of how specific people in one’s life can make all the difference of what we be and do.
Full view of Tunic #4 - this was one of two tunics I had sewn that had sleeves - it was the first time I had sewn sleeves on anything - I do not have a photo of the other tunic; it belongs to Catrina (Camposano) Mitchell
Harry told me many stories; his voice would change when he was telling me something of great importance, something he wanted me to take heed. As he was telling the following parable, I could “see” the entire imagery; and, maybe that is why I have remembered this “lesson” well…and maybe I’ve remembered this lesson because I applied it to my life…
“Say you are across the sea on another continent and you will be taking a long return voyage home. The voyage might take a week, it might take a month, but whatever the length of time, you take care of yourself so you can make the long journey. You will not be drinking the pop or the alcohol – you will not eat bad food; if you do, you know what happens, you will get seasick and puke over the side. Depending upon how much you abuse or neglect your self, you may not make the long journey back home…stay away from these things so you may make that long journey and return to your self and know who you are…”
Harry K. Bremner, Sr. and I - Yakutat airport - April 1975
Nov 16, 2010 | For Crying Out Loud, Honoring Others, Relationship Overdrive, Tlingit Culture Accentuated |
My Mamma's Mother: Mary Wilson Sarabia, T'akDeinTaan (black-legged Kittywake) Clan from Hoonah, Alaska (circa 1920's)
In 1988, while living in Santa Fe, I attended the Institute of American Indian Arts and took a Creative Writing class from professor/poet Arthur Zhe. After submitting a few short poems, he asked if I could write a longer one – of course, I replied. When I got home, I set the stage. It was a stormy night with thunder and lightning blasting about the wind. The kids and man were asleep. Between 10pm and 3am was my usual time all to myself, and I was enjoying the storm. I lit candles and curled up on the couch wrapped in woolens and a spiral-bound notebook. The curtains were open and I could hear the bushes slap against the window glistening with wet, shocks of light in this exciting night. I’m not sure why the image of my Grandmother Mary came to mind, but I began to write without much thought – like the pen led the way into a page of timelessness.
This poem was written as if my grandmother were to come back to a life-long dream of a home and lifestyle I have wanted since my first child was born (now almost 34 years ago);; the dream was to build a hand-built, custom-designed home, with a flourishing flower and vegetable garden, including fruit trees, living a subsistence life-style embellished with the making of traditional and contemporary art. (Cannot say I’ve lived that life – just yet!). My grandmother passed away 12 years prior to the writing of this poem. I wondered what she would see if this dream were an actual reality. Also, while writing this poem, I imagined another clan relative narrating this perspective, telling my Grandmother about me as her elderly footsteps walked silently about my home and life:
“Say you were to come back knocking at her Painted Door, a clan design you know as T’akDeinTaan
She would welcome you in to her large, dark one-room lodge lit by a couple of kerosene wall lamps from L.L. Bean
where at first you did not notice the smoke from the fire in the center of the room trailing up to the smoke hole above
where White Raven tried to fly out but became blackened forever
And you did not notice the carved alder wood mask smiling with one gold tooth flickering by candlelight propped next to the cedar bark basket
on that driftwood shelf to your right and in its shadow below, the carved bentwood boxes that held our clan’s button dance blankets,
each made of wool bought from House of Fabrics with 2,115 mother-of-pearl buttons from Winona’s and 649 turquoise beads
bargained from the stateside Indians who sat in the sun she hardly ever got
and what about the sealskin boots parked near your feet and the sealskin coat embellished with brass beads, feathers and leather fringe
and the sealskin and wolf-fur hat and matching mittens hanging right up next to you on brass hooks screwed in to the cedar-planked wall –
Mind you, did yid you smell cedar when you walked in, for how could you miss it with every plank and beam she’s made of
And did you not see the soapstone puffin bird carved by your great-grandson when he was nine,
and the small bentwood box that used to be yours stuffed with glass beads for the beading loom projects of your great-granddaughter?
How about the Chilkat dance blanket hanging on the loom over there in the corner, away from the mud, ashes and crumbs;
the only weaving in the where you can weave the perfect circle, therefore perfect for our style of design,
and she learned it from Jennie, last of the traditional weavers two months before she died, and they say it takes a year to weave a robe,
but how would you know; you didn’t know how to weave, or did you?
Through clan inheritance only a select few knew then when you were alive, and it was almost a dying art they say,
except the ones outside of tribal boundaries who quickly learned what they could, weaving together bits of the dangling knowledge
and she was one to help weave pieces of the heritage back so she could earn prestige, recognition and thirty thousand dollars a robe,
so she can buy pretty clothes, new shoes, new dishes, towels, computer, stereo, sewing machine, lawn mower, food processor, pasta machine;
so she could buy a piece of land where her ancestors once fished, to build her cedar home, and buy a brand new Toyota truck
to haul all of her new possessions and firewood in, and bury a septic tank for a flushing commode and install a generator for the color T.V.
and CD player sitting on the oak cabinet beside the stack of American Indian art books and magazines surrounded by masks, looms, boxes,
skins, beads and stones; surrounded by what she strives to make as art, what the art can sell for, what the money she makes from selling
the art can buy, what the buying of anything she desires she has discovered has eventually sold pieces of her soul, where the selling of her soul
has left but a faint light in her life.
Say you were to come back
Knocking at her painted door
You would not even notice the dim world behind her
Full of smokey objects casting shadows
Drifting upwards through a blackened hole;
you would look into her eyes only
and know that the faint light had held on
For you
And the next time you were ready
You would take her with you
When you went.”
Sep 15, 2010 | Honoring Others, Relationship Overdrive |
Four Generations: Irene Lampe, Clarissa Rizal, Elizabeth Hope, Lily Hudson
Our mother calls the shots on Sunday. We know not to make big plans for Sunday mornings because we know that Mom is gonna be calling up the day before and say “…let’s have breakfast at Donna’s…it’s my treat.” Sometimes our cousins, the Belarde girls and their families attend. Sometimes sisters Jean and Deanne; other times it’s just brothers Rick and Tim. This time it’s a combination that hasn’t ever happened before…
Irene calls for another Sunday morning breakfast at Donna's: Betty, Lily, Ishmael, Dee, Rick, Dan, Mom...and I (not pictured cuz I'm taking the photo)
I hadn’t ever noticed how much my mother enjoys her meals more when someone is eating with her – huh? – the simplest of things that go unawares for many years until a person’s life gets simplified! She doesn’t want much anymore. She just appreciates her every breath at hand. And because it was another rare, sunny day in Juneau, she wanted to put flowers on the graves, to visit the memories of her mother, brothers, niece, sister and husband, knowing that any day she will be joining them.
Beautiful grave roses
Three weeks before my father passed away in Decmeber 2008, my father requested that we put 5 red roses on his grave in memory of him along with his 4 best friends who were blown to smithereens in a tank during World War II in the Phillipines. Dad said he would have been in that tank had he been accepted into the Phillipine Army – but because he was an inch too short, he was not accepted into the army.
Our brother Richard Lampe with our mother Irene Lampe visiting graves at the Alaska Memorial Park on Riverside Drive
How many middle-aged men do you know who take care of their mother full-time? Our brother Rick has been taking care of Mom since our father’s passing almost two years ago.
Our grandparents' graves, Mary Wilson Sarabia and Juan Sarabia
Our Mother Irene says she'll be laying next to Dad someday...
Sep 9, 2010 | Honoring Others, Relationship Overdrive |
The soft light of Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe
As many of us have experienced, or are presently experiencing, it is not easy watching our parents get older. It’s not easy for them either. Remembering my weaving teacher, Jennie Thlunaut’s words back in 1985 when she was 95: “…don’t get too old! Don’t get too old!” As she was trying to get up off the couch, “You cannot get up,…or walk anymore!” As she looked out at all of her students her thick glasses made her look like an owl: “…you cannot see anymore…!” She struggled with her false teeth flapping in her mouth: “…you cannot even talk anymore…!”
Two nights ago my sister and I were in sitting with our mother, Irene Loling Sarabia Lampe. At one point, Mom said the same thing as Jennie. She also said she is getting tired of living and just wants to go now. We don’t blame her. Since our father passed in December 2008, our mother has sorely missed him; this of course, has made her living a little bit less palatable. They were married almost 54 years.
My mother was the youngest in her family. After the passing of her brother Robert Sarabia and her sister Sue Belarde over 10 years ago, she remarked that she was the only one left in her family; she felt very alone. Yet, just a year before the passing of our father, my parents got to experience the birth of their first great-grandchild, Elizabeth Deanna Hope. Then 6 months later, they met their 2nd grand-daughter, Violet Sol Hudson. I hadn’t seen that kind of happiness since my own children were born. My mother will meet the next grand-daughter, Amelie Soleil Haas next month as she will be here for a two-week visit with her parents. We look forward to the celebration.
My Mamma naps and dreams of another time and place where she is no longer slow, bent and in pain
Out of the sky blue, my mother asked me when I’m going to cut my hair. I told her “after you are gone..” She curtly replies “Why are you going to wait until AFTER I am gone!? I want to see it now! I want to see all the curls you once had when you were a little babe…!”
