By: Nancy R. Hiller
personal copy, hardcover, 350 pages plus bibliography and info on a cat rescue
Published: 2021
Genre: non-fiction, memoir, pets, woodworking
My son and daughter-in-law gave me this book for a birthday or Christmas a few years ago. I started it but set it aside for almost a year and have finally finished it. Before I deal with all my post-it notes, here's an overview:
What I loved:
- stories about animals
- stories about woodworking
- beautiful color photos
- her honesty
What I didn't love:
- her messed-up relationships!
- her moving constantly and living like a gypsy
- her allowing some men to dictate her happiness
For different reasons, I didn't love her cancer battle. I appreciate her strength. This book was NOT about her physical well-being. In fact, she alluded to the fact that her chemo-related challenges were not as difficult as what other people have had to deal with. For most of the book, I completely forgot that she had cancer! (Of course, I had to look her up online and found that she died from pancreatic cancer in 2022 at age 63.)
Page 15: For many, my specialist's estimate of four to six months, and maybe two years, holds true.
This instantly made me think of my sister-in-law Nan. When the doctors told her six months, it was as though she decided to go ahead and die in six months. And she did. I appreciate the evaluating that Hiller did - she thought about quality of life, comfort, expense, etc. She wrote very eloquently about her decision-making. Since this was at the start of the book, by the time I picked it up last week to finish reading, I had completely forgotten about this!
Page 18: Even after getting the port I reserved the option to cancel chemo at the last minute. I have never enjoyed interactions with the Medical Industrial Complex; I dislike being viewed as a patient, a word derived from the Latin verb for suffering, in the sense of bearing something, or having things done to one, instead of being an agent, one who does the doing.
This is something that resonated for me. I strongly dislike the health care system in America. I'm thankful I don't need to deal with it more than I do. I'm a tiny bit curious to dig into the meaning of "patient" myself, but not now. All of my friends who have shared about chemotherapy and its effects have talked about how awful it made them feel.
Page 19: When online patient portal forms malfunction, emails to addresses on the hospital's own website go unanswered and you end up on hold nearly every time you call, trapped in a repeating loop of corporate advertisements and jingles, the claim to value patient engagement rings a little hollow.
Yes! I remember writing an angry letter to Fairview asking them how they can call what they do health "care" when they don't seem to care at all. It's maddening!
Page 22: The first time our mom caught us in this pointless killing spree she suggested we think about how the ants might feel about being deprived of their lives for no reason other than our entertainment.
Hiller is writing about developing empathy. Although I don't have any particular affinity for ants (and I definitely kill any that show up inside my house!), I wish more kiddos got lessons in empathy from their parents.
Page 31: Having lived in England for 16 years, I've experienced the realities of a nationalized healthcare system. No system is without its drawbacks, but I would take nationalized health care any day over the administration-heavy, bottom-line focused system we currently have in the U.S. . . .
Again, I agree with her. This is beautifully said. Of course a nationalized system isn't Utopian. But it's better than what we have in the United States (super expensive and hard to get good care without spending a fortune - all while health care and pharmaceutical executives are making money hand over fist).
Page 35: In part, I realized, it was because I was raised not to want, but to be grateful for what already was.
There's a lot you can say about being content with what you have and having an attitude of gratitude. I think we get in trouble when we use absolutes. Wanting something (material object, travel, relationship) isn't inherently bad. She goes on.
Page 36: But you can't really predict what a kid will do with the Buddha's First and Second Noble Truths, which in a nutshell, see all life as suffering, and suffering as a product of selfish desire.
Interesting. I contrast that concept with God's Word in John 16:33. Jesus said, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." One of my daughters-in-law is exploring Buddhism. I should ask her about the Noble Truths and why this faith system appeals to her.
Page 39: I was dangerously dependent on outside forces, people who expressed their opposition, no less than their approval.
When we let others determine our identity and self-worth, it will be troubling.
Page 87: Just being in her presence was a joy - she paid attention to us and seemed to appreciate us as people, and she always smelled like her perfume, Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche. What's more, she had a slightly naughty sense of fun.
Hiller is talking about her grandmother Esse and visits with her when she lived in London. I want to be a delightful grandma who loves her grandchildren and leaves them with joyful memories.
Page 89: I had to pee when I got off the train, but I didn't want to spend the penny to go to the station loo. I decided to wait until I got home.
This didn't end well . . . and sadly, I can relate. I've always joked about my "micro-bladder" and peeing a lot. But it's not funny. Birthing three ginormous babies, drinking too much coffee, and aging have made this situation even more relatable. (Though I rarely try to "hold it." I find bathrooms quickly everywhere I go.)
Page 130: Bad things happened everywhere.
I decided not to include the story of the chapter, with the vulture she tried to rescue and the idea that we didn't have Facebook in the 70s and 80s to let people know we're okay. Just this statement. Yes, bad things happen everywhere. I remember vividly when Jacob Wetterling was abducted. Small town Minnesota. Riding his bike in the day. It was shocking.
Page 156: "If you get a dog, I'm out of here," Flynn said. I had a hard time taking him at his word. How could he be so adamant? Dogs are great companions. And puppies are irresistibly cute. Surely if I came home with one, he'd relent.
This bothers me on multiple levels, but if you disregard what your partner is saying and do what you want anyhow, you're the jerk. (And yes, I've been the jerk in the past. It's something I try to avoid.) No wonder so many of her relationships didn't work out.
Page 172: I winced in the living room, deeply conflicted about the harsh punishment while knowing I'd done William a disservice by failing to give him the kind of training he should have had, and sorry about the injury to Alan's hand.
This whole page drove me crazy! I even wrote in the margin. Her partner at the time BEAT the dog William with a 2x4!!! She goes on to say, "Alan was a good man . . . " Sigh. I'm getting mad again just looking at this page.
Page 173: Like William, I'm not much of a quitter, at least unless I'm thoroughly convinced that leaving is the right decision. So I doubled down on my efforts to bear the way things were and stayed.
Staying in a horrible situation with someone who would beat a dog with a piece of lumber . . . I can't imagine making that choice. It makes me think of what I've read about domestic violence and how abused women struggle to leave. Hiller did eventually leave.
Page 175: Already twice-divorced, I had been told repeatedly that I was joyless and unlovable. I was in my mid-40s, an age at which a vast corpus of popular publications assured me I was unlikely to marry again or even have another long-term relationship. I wanted a partner; there was so much in life to share - not just sex, but good food, fires in the woodstove, gardening, walks, books and movies, other friends - and I have always loved the basic mammalian comfort of sleeping next to someone I love and trust.
While I share her affinity for having a partner, her many partners frustrated me. Don't be so quick to connect with someone if you aren't confident that you are true partners.
Page 184: This would be the last time I betrayed an animal friend because of a man.
It took her long enough! This was still Alan . . . who actively sabotaged the things she loved (like tearing up her carefully tended sunflowers and leaving them to wilt and die).
Page 196: As I thought about that experience over subsequent years, I came to see "things versus people" as a dichotomy that's false and destructive. You can't even have things without people; we're interdependent.
She goes on to talk about makers - both craftspeople and factory workers. "Material artifacts are also repositories of memory." This section was wonderful for me to read because I've really been struggling with having too much stuff and wanting to get rid of excess. Although I value people more than things, I spend lots of time dealing with things.
Page 211: That summer, Mark asked if I'd like to move in with him and Jonas.
As soon as I read this I thought, "Oh no! Not another one!" But Mark was a keeper, a truly good guy.
Page 229: Over his 12-1/2 years Louis met many dogs and performed sophisticated psychological operations on them all. He'd crouch beneath a truck or around a corner, then leap out with a startling cry. He ignored any dog that wanted to play, walking past with regal nonchalance, then surreptitiously batting at the poor sap's leg or tail to get its attention. When the dog perked up - Oh! You want to play? - Louis's eyes glazed over and he moved on.
That's such a cat thing to do! I love how she wrote this. Most chapters were titled by the main animal(s) in her life at the time. Binky, Oscar, Winnie, Lucy . . . When I was reading chapter 18, I had to go back to see what the heading was. "Missing in Action." Heart-breaking.
Page 254: Henny, though, was something else. Alarmed by the viciousness of the attack, I thought she was the one who should be euthanized. Mark was adamantly opposed.
This section was scary to read. To have a dog that could fly into a fury and cause damage to other animals or people? Scary. It reminded me of my son's dog Otto. Otto could be so incredibly sweet and well-behaved, but could switch to insane attack at a moment's notice. I called it doing a "Jeckyll / Hyde."
Without completely spoiling the book for another reader (STOP HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS!), chapter 18 is about her coming home to find her stepson, Jonas, dead. Pages 301-305 are especially harrowing. This scenario could happen to any of us. It turns out he had been trying the "choking" fad and was conducting a scientific experiment. He didn't commit suicide; he miscalculated the way his body would go when he passed out. Heart-breaking. Desiring an altered state of consciousness - alcohol, drugs, sniffing, choking . . . they're all dangerous.
Page 307: But at home he would spend hours by the fire, writing in his journal, reading poetry and weeping.
Mark's grief was deep and real. Losing a child changes your existence - I've observed that in others. I don't want to experience it ever!
Page 307: I get the concept of toxic positivity, but what I did next doesn't qualify. Mark needed a good shaking-up.
I've certainly been guilty of "toxic positivity," but I'm trying to be more sensitive to where others are at and what they need most.
Page 307: Sometimes a simple shift in perspective is capable of altering the world; it doesn't erase the damage or the pain, and it certainly can't prevent death, but it can offer a kind of freedom - the freedom to see opportunity amid loss and hardship. While a shift in perspective is no substitute for action to minimize avoidable risks, right injustice and address the world's sometimes-overwhelming ills, it strikes me as a critical component in any kind of healing.
Yes, considering your perspective and your options is freeing.
Page 314: When you think about it, it's a miracle that anyone reaches adulthood. Tragedy can strike any family. Why don't we, as a culture, talk about this more?
If I hazarded a guess, it would be that most people avoid talking about unpleasant topics. And tragedies are unpleasant.
Page 330: No, I conclude: it seems indisputably better to have the chance to face seemingly unbearable loss alongside those we love. This, too, is related to a sense of agency: Anything can happen. We have only so much control over events themselves, but we can usually control how we respond.
This is so true - we cannot control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond.
I appreciate Hiller's honesty in sharing her stories. She loved many pets and people and made beautiful wood furniture. She wrote books and articles.
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