Changes are....

"The only constant is change." Isaac Asimov Or, as Heraclitus put it, "There is nothing permanent except change".
How true. Yet change is something most of us hate, avoid, rail against, and deny. We become comfortable with the status quo, the routines of our lives, to the point where even the smallest change can upset us. A really big change can devastate us.
At times we want to change - to leave a job, to lose weight or to get out of a bad relationship. But the fear of change can keep us where we are.
Learning to accept and deal with the changes in our lives is one of the most important challenges of becoming an adult; of truly growing. My goal is to accept change gracefully, embrace it and learn from it.
My role model is my Grandma Lynam. During her lifetime, she dealt with more than her share of changes. Bessie Lucille Duncan was born in Adams Co. Iowa July 16, 1891 and died there August 14, 1987 at the age of 96. As the eldest of six, I'm certain her young years were soon filled with responsibilities. I don't remember how far she went in school, though I doubt it was beyond 8th grade. She worked as a 'hired girl' during her teen years and before marriage at age 23, in 1914.
She had her first child (my father) in 1917. Six years later, she had a baby girl, Evelyn, who only lived three days. That is a change a mother couldn't get over. She had to deal with it somehow. In 1947, she became a widow at age 56. (Another big change.) That is around the time my memories of her begin. (I was 4.)
Grandpa & Grandma lived on an acreage on the west edge of Corning. Grandma never learned to drive a car. She did have a daughter living just up the road, but I know she did a lot of walking. What did she do for money? She rented the small pasture to Ike Arbuckle who lived in town and kept a milk cow there. So she had milk and cream which she kept in the cave because she didn't have a refrigerator. She raised chickens and a garden for food. She would butcher and dress chickens and take them downtown to a grocery store on Saturday mornings to sell. (Probably exchange for sugar, flour and other staples.) Eventually she would sell the acreage and move into town.
I think, generally, kids are closer to their maternal grandparents that their paternal ones. That was certainly the case for me. I saw more of my Grandma Ridnour and somehow thought I liked her best even though she was more stern; 'crotchety'. It was only as I got older that I began to appreciate Grandma Lynam. I don't remember her ever being mad at me. Each summer, I would spend several days with her. She was always willing to entertain me. We would sit on the front porch and watch cars go by. She would tell me to choose a color and she would do the same. Then we would count cars with our colors to see who tallied the most cars; who 'won'.
And when on rare occasions my parents went somewhere, G'ma Lynam was the one who came out to the farm to stay with us. That was when we really had fun! Tepees in the yard; sneaking into the other bedroom to scare the occupants when lights were out; eating her wonderful 'omelets'.
When I was 16, grandma lived a block from the highschool. Many nights when I had something going on at school, I would walk up to her house for supper and possibly spend the night. She had two bedrooms, but only used one, so I always slept with her. We would talk and talk and talk. She was so easy to talk to. I know now it was because she listened more than she talked. At one point I had an awful row with my parents and asked Grandma if I could live with her. She gently turned me down.
When grandma was 86, she had a prolonged seige of pneumonia. Once she left the hospital, she went to Mom & Dad's. They put a hospital bed in the living room for her. I know she was expected to die, because I stayed some weekends to help with her and give Mom a break. Dad had been ailing for several years by then, so Mom had her hands full. After three weeks, she told Dad she couldn't do it anymore and Dad put his Mother in the nursing home in Villisca. It was there, a couple days later, we went to tell her her son had died. Grandma had lost a second child. She didn't cry in front of us. She seemed very stoic about it.
Eventually, Mom had her moved to the Corning nursing home where she lived out the rest of her life. It was her acceptance of her lot in life those last ten years that I admired. She never complained. She kept busy with embroidery and mending clothes for the home's other occupants.
Over her long life, Grandma Lynam saw many changes: from horse and buggy days to men on the moon. When her daughter moved to Arizona, Grandma flew back and forth in jets to visit her. She loved flying! She also got to see the Pacific Ocean when Aunt Leona took her to San Diego. (My mom also was able to fly to AZ to see her sister-in-law once. And she loved flying, too. She was 80 years old.)
Through it all, Grandma was a lady; my role model.