Dreams of Our Mothers

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Carol Forsloff --  Today's mothers are unique, as "the hand that rocks the cradle" may be difficult to identify anymore with the new families struggling to decide who and what mother is.

The classic image in "Leave It to Beaver" is not the American family of today.  Today's mother is apt to work outside the home and have little time to have all the neighborhood kids over for the day.  The new world of busy mothers means children are more and more requiring technology to be tethered to the family, as opposed to the dinner hour when everyone gathers around the table to chat about the day.

In La Grande, Oregon and other small towns like Natchitoches, Louisiana one can still find mothers doing the same things they used to but paying for it with their lives.  Mothers now die like fathers do on the open roads of life and have the tensions of the work world.  But a small town means families that have remained in the town remain close emotionally as well.  Yet that is changing as well.  Emotional or physical estrangement from many causes has created distances far greater than yesterday's mother found.  What's worse is the question:  Who is the mother?

These days mothers are stepmothers, big sisters, auntie or the neighbor next door or even the Facebook mom who nurtures everyone.

So what are the dreams of the mothers today, as in the past the responsibility was to care carefully, play with the child and provide guidance for major life directions.  Today's mothers dreams of having the time to do that and hoping that, despite a unique relationship that may not be tied to a birth of a child,  they will be identified with motherhood in the same way.

Today we will attend a funeral of a stepmother with a family wrenched apart by clashes with the deceased woman's new boyfriend and the step-family, as the children's father had been married twice.  So the children have had to make shifts in their lives to accommodate new relationships after a divorce or death.  The natural mother of the adult children is seldom mentioned in the mix, as the grown children continue to identify relationships.  And the answer to "who is the mother" becomes complicated.

For all those women who have children, have cared for the children of others, who watch over children in the work world or who take the time the time for a little mothering on a street corner of a child's life, congratulations, as new life has been poetically identified as not just the physical but spiritual renewal.  Congratulations to all those who offer that kind of relationship and to all mothers who have dreams of a better world for all of us.

I had the strangest dream the night before 9/11

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Carol Forsloff---That night I had the strangest dream.   I wish I had that dream again as solace on this day.  For in my dream I saw America unspoiled and radiant, its Towers straight and tall and standing firm as citadels.   I saw us still united in our wish to be the best.

In my dream those Towers loomed over a skyline in a city filled with hope.  I heard the sounds of busy people going on about their day.  The sun was shining as the children found their way to school, and the stores were filled with crowds of shoppers and people on their way to work, feeling fine and filled with hope, just like most every day in that town that never sleeps.

A policeman on the corner smiled.   The sky was clear that day.  A bird flew overhead and just behind it as if in magic mimicry a silver slip of light from planes slipped silently across the blue horizon, as they had so many times before.

Wall Street lords and lassies in their suits came dashing by to grab that morning coffee before going on to work.

I heard the chatter of the busy and the songs of those in love.  I felt the clear, soft wind across my face and smelled the air so fresh and pure.  And I felt proud to live in freedom and in a world at peace.

The dream was interrupted in the way it surely was for you, with memories of screaming planes that beat the skies to ashes from the falling citadels and cries from stricken crowds of folks in fear and pain.   The dream was interrupted by the anger and the hate.

But dreams are not just shadows passing but the echoes of our hope that we can gather once again to build our world anew.  For we can build on dreams again with me,  that dream and you.

A melodious reminder of our dreams

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Carol Forsloff - 50 years have passed, and Portland’s dramatic changes can be seen everywhere, from the downtown sections of the city to its sprawling suburbs, as a journalist reflected on Portland’s progress, while learning once again how some things never change in a melody, a mandolin and joy in simple things.

Her red hair glistened in the sunlight as she sat on a bench in the park area next to Portland State University.  Her dress, her style, her way of strumming a mandolin was reminiscent of those college days in 1961 when young folks, in much the same way, looked hopefully at their lives and dreamed of a bright future in a world of simple things.

Hopes and dreams are part of youth that never change, despite the upsets, downsides and expansions in material ways, as our nation’s cities grow.  Portland’s growth has brought it front and center from a lumber, port and fishing Northwest town to a place that assumes  leadership in transportation progress, health and environmental gains.  It is also a town that celebrates its art, music and cultural differences, as represented by the many events that are woven into the fabric of what Portland has become.

But it’s in the faces of the youth and music that one finds hope alive  in this place on a Sunday in a park in Portland town.  A young woman’s radiance as she gently shared her music remind one of the pleasures that stay with us in memories and  dreams.  Olivia Duffy, the lovely player of that mandolin, has her own dreams for sure; but her instrument only hints what they may be.  The notes rise, hover in the air in moments, speak in whispers, then move on to touch the listener who dreams.

Dreams cement our lives, anchor who we are,  as psychologists remind us.  Dreams form our direction, purpose and our goals.   Some see in dreams a spiritual significance in connecting with past lives or finding messages of truth for every day.  For the young they give a vision of the journey that’s  ahead.  For the old they are fashioned memories that keep them still alive and turn back years to form reminders of one’s youth.

Portland State University stands like many college campuses, brimming with hope and youth and dreams.  The memories of those dreams are encapsulated in a sunny day, a young woman’s pretty face and melodies that make a Sunday special, for the elder who listens and thinks about the past, while the young folks look ahead.

Simple Sunday pleasures can still be found in a world where pleasures are sometimes smothered in the news of human pain,, but music makes our dreams return and remind us how some good things never change.