Hope

Just when it seemed my mother couldn’t bear
 
one more needle, one more insane orange pill,
my sister, in silence, stood at the end
 
of the bed and slowly rubbed her feet,
 
which were scratchy with hard, yellow skin,
and dirt cramped beneath the broken nails,
 
which changed nothing in time except
 
the way my mother was lost in it for a while
as if with a kind of relief that doesn’t relieve.
 
And then, with her eyes closed, my mother said
 
the one or two words the living have for gratefulness,
which is a kind of forgetting, with a sense
 
of what it means to be alive long enough
 
to love someone. Thank you, she said. As for me,
I didn’t care how her voice suddenly seemed low
 
and kind, or what failures and triumphs
 
of the body and spirit brought her to that point—
just that it sounded like hope, stupid hope.

-- "Living" by Jason Shinder

Comments

[Flannista]

Jason Shinder, today's featured poet, died in May 2008 before his collection of poetry, "Stupid Hope" was published. His mother preceded him in death. Jason was 52 when he died after a long-term battle with lymphoma and leukemia. He left instructions for four poet colleagues to edit "Stupid Hope."

The poem in today's post was first published in the October 1, 2007 New Yorker. At the time, I ripped out the page and placed it in my poetry pile. I purchased this collection when it was finally published this past August.

This poem gives me hope. Stupid hope.

[Flannista]

Working on my presentation.

Came across this quote from barista. About a year ago, she posted in a comment: "In the sassosphere, we hold each other's souls."

I sometimes forget that. Forgive me.

[Flannista]

Why does Shinder describe hope as "stupid" in this poem?

[half-a-sista]

Back in English lit class in college for a few minutes, I think he described his mother's hope as "stupid" because she expressed her one or two words that she had for the gratefulness of living despite the fact that she would not live much longer. In that way her hope was a stupid hope.

To paraphrase a song, Dusty Springfield made famous:

Wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin'
Plannin' and dreamin' while your alive
Doesn't mean you won't die.

[Chrysosistah]

No idea, Flannista. I'm betting you're probably already on your way to DC's church. Hope the presentation goes well.

I did almost this exact service for my mother-in-law last year, when we was rushed to the hospital again from the nursing home, appearing to be at death's door. Planta, my sister-in-law and I were all soberly, somberly, standing around in her ER room, watching her struggle, in that no-where land people go when they just don't seem to care anymore. Ever notice how cold hospitals always seem to be? I'm sure there's some logic in it, but I feel sorry for the ill, because they are usually freezing. Anyway, she came to, a bit, and we all grouped around the bed, her two kids by her head, I was down by the feet. I noticed how dry and awful her feet looked (nobody in those nursing homes must look after their feet!), grabbed my honey lotion out of my purse, warmed it in my hands and started massaging it into her feet. They were cold as ice when I started, but as I worked the lotion in, they seemed to improve. She even commented that it felt good, which was something from her. My sister-in-law was in shock - I didn't know it, but apparently MIL doesn't allow anyone to touch her feet usually, as she says she is highly ticklish. But she let me, that night - and she seemed to turn a corner too, as she recovered from the pneumonia, healed from the hip fractures, and is home on her own again. One tough bird!! I feel glad to have been able to give her that bit of caring that night - it was a good thing.

[Flannista]

A very touching story, Chryso. If I'm ever in the hospital, get out your honey lotion. It's a gift to us to see how quickly your healing instincts kicked in. If for no other reason, I'm glad that I posted this poem because it brought up this memory for you.

[Flannista]

half-a: I really didn't know how to interpret "stupid hope," but your thinking makes a lot of sense. Remember the last two words of "The Shawshank Redemption?": "I hope."

The presentation went very well this morning, beloveds. I shared samples of nearly all of your posts and/or comments. Also, Jersey did a great job sharing what Sassistas! meant to her.

Thanks again dcsistah, for extending the invitation. It was healing (like Chryso's honey lotion) to read through the sassosphere and see how far we all have come. As babysis said, "Sassistas! is a gift and a challenge." Thanks much for your continued understanding and compassion.

[babysis]

The only thing stupid here is me, for not sooner saying a big Thank You to all for their kindness to me, some expressing it eloquently like Jersey, and some simply like West (who rocks). I love Flann and Matiss so much, and they have brought me to the rest of you. I feel like putty in Chryso's foot rubbing hands.

[Carolyn]

Go right ahead and be putty, babe sis. Thank the sistas, and rightly so. Now I'll just change my name from 'Carolyn' to 'the rest of you'.

[Chrysosistah]

Oh, mercy, babysis - I hope none of us ever feel stupid here. I think everyone here is pretty damned cool, and feel fortunate to be part of such a good, intelligent and caring group of people. All, course, thanks to Flannista & Matissta, who have us all corraled with their love. ;-)

So glad to hear the presentation went well, not that I really had any doubt!

Anytime you need a footrub, just get me there and you've got it!

[frida]

One of our friends told me that she went to visit her dying mother in the hospital...her mother was still and silent. She sat a while and then got up to go, saying "see you later." To which her mother replied, "Agitator" and then went on to live five more years until the age of 102.

[Flannista]

Hello, sweet beloveds. Matiss and I are over at Jersey's watching her (and my) beloved Steelers. I think they are winning. I'm kind of out of steam today, but just stepped away to check the 'sphere and there you all were with so much love . . . and putty.

We love you so much, babysis.

Carolyn: wise, you are. Annoying, that.

Chryso: you are damn cool, too, and I know who I'm gonna call for that healing foot rub. Something so spiritual and healing about that. A person has to make herself pretty vulnerable to rub someone else's feet. That picture of you sticks with me like stupid hope. I write that with the greatest respect and thanks.

Hope may be stupid at times, but it's still hope. Thank you.

Love to all.

[Flannista]

frida -- our comments passed in the 'sphere.

You Agitator, you.

[babysis]

Carolyn, when you put yourself out there like that what am I supposed to do but take the bait? F&M did not bring me to you. You were already mine. In fact, I brought them to you. You are indeed another part of what I love about this place, but you're not a new friend. So get over yourself with that "the rest of you" crap.

[Flannista]

I'm here and listening.

Love as deep as the ocean. As deep as the 'sphere.

[babysis]

Flann says, "A person has to make herself pretty vulnerable to rub someone else's feet." That must be true, and Chryso deserves such praise. It hit me though, because I've always thought I was making myself pretty vulnerable to accept foot rubs. I do not like my feet for some reason (several, actually), but I can overcome that feeling because I so enjoy a good foot rub. I do think it's an intimate gesture for both giver and recipient, and a particularly kind one for someone who can no longer rub their own feet or isn't generally touched with tenderness.

[Flannista]

I hate my feet, babysis. Hate them. They are ugly, really they are. I may have a nice ass, but I got the ugly feet. That is one of the reasons Chryso's post touched me so. I imagined her REALLY being willing to touch my feet and me trusting her with them. It's actually kind of sacred in a way. And I agree, being the recipient entails it's own courage and vulnerability. Thanks for following Chryso to the heart of the post.

[Flannista]

I also have the nice gams. The ugly feet, but the nice gams.

[Carolyn]

Yeah? Well, I put the "ape" in "apricot."

[Flannista]

And what do you and babysis have that I ain't got (but am gettin')?

COURAGE.

[Chrysosistah]

Good grief! Sounds like I've got my loving work cut out for me! I'm up to it - are you??

Ladies, you may not like your feet, but those ol' dogs do a lot of work for us, and they deserve that tender loving care. And yes, my poor MIL definitely hadn't been touched with much tenderness last year, esp. in the first nursing home. Thank goodness, transferred her to a second home after discharge, and she did much better. She was so ill that night in the hospital, she was much more vulnerable, open...which allowed me to gift her with some loving-kindness. I've never been able to do it since, because her old walls came back with her health. Really too bad, but you can't give gifts to people who won't accept them...

Beware those walls...(and I'm saying this to myself as well)...they are so easily erected, and they keep out both friend and foe....

[babysis]

Carolyn, I'm recalling at least a thought or two of what luscious lips you have, that is, from a visual perspective, and from comments others have made to and/or about you. Where's the ape in that?

[Flannista]

Takes courage, babysis.

[treesta]

You got it, Flann. You're standing your ground. You're speaking your story. You're finding your voice. And you refuse to be silenced, or to be stuffed. Yep, you got it. Courage.

[Flannista]

Chryso -- I love that you termed my ugly feet as "ol' dogs." Hell, yeah, mine do A LOT of work for Flann. I'm going to do what I can to treat them with more TLC.

Also, am taking in this: "You can't give gifts to people who won't accept them." You take a couple wisdom pills today, Chryso? Or did I take a couple to help me to listen better? You're on fire. And thank you for the part you have played in helping me to tear down my walls. I love you.