culture | Bertram's Blog

Roseanne Barr, Margaret Cho, and Me

March 29, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Here is something I never thought I’d see — my name in an article with Roseanne Barr’s. Who would ever have ever thought we had anything in common?(Click on this link for the article: Roseanne Barr, Sandra Fluke, Margaret Cho & Folks Around The World, Join To ‘Unite Against Rape’ My name is in the paragraph below Margaret Cho’s photo.)

When I thanked the woman who got me listed in the story as one of the A-listers, she responded: “You’re welcome. 🙂 Happy to do it! Any time I can promote someone who deserves it, I try to do so! And you, my friend, are very deserving.”

It was very sweet of her to say so, but the truth is, what’s really deserving is the cause. We should all be united against rape. It’s an unwarranted violence against girls and women (against boys and men, too, for that matter), and it has no place in the world of today. Nor should being a victim of rape carry any stigma. We’re better than that.

If you would like to join Roseanne Barr, Margaret Cho, and me in this campaign, you only need to send a photo and brief statement (“I stand united against rape because…”) to: unitewomenawareness@gmail.com or visit: UniteWomen.org: (www.facebook/UniteWomen)

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” All Bertram’s books are published by Second Wind Publishing. Connect with Pat on Google+

Posted in culture, internet, life. Tags: Margaret Cho, Roseanne Barr, Unite Against Rape, UnitedWomen, UnitedWomen.org. 3 Comments »

Facing My New Year With Courage and Wisdom

March 28, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday was the third anniversary of my life mate/soul mate’s death. It turned out to be a nice day, and only intermittently sad. One of my fellow bereft sent me an email, “Is it wrong to wish that it’s just another day for you? Maybe it is, but I hope that you can acknowledge it with a nod and then let the day become like any other. We can’t make shrines out of these anniversaries. I’m weary of worshiping a ghost. I’m trying very hard to listen to this advice as I prepare my own countdown.”

Her message was exactly right, and I hoped for the same thing, that I could acknowledge the anniversary with a nod and then let the day become like any other. It’s important for me to remember him, but instead of remembering the horror and sadness of his death, I would rather remember that I loved him, that he was a special man, that he lived — and died — courageously.

The day turned out to be not just a day like any other, but better — a day of peace and friendship, a day apart from my daily responsibilities and cares.

I’d planned to go to lunch with friends I met through my grief group, but at the last minute, I almost reneged. I was teetering on the brink of sadness, and wasn’t sure if I could handle being around so many people, but I donned my “glad rags” (black hat I’d decorated with red poppies and matching red shirt and black slacks) and kept the appointment. Whether it was the silliness of the hat or the power of the black and red clothes, I felt uplifted and was able to enjoy the lunch. Since it was more to celebrate another woman’s birthday, we only gave a passing nod to my anniversary, which was good — I didn’t want to dwell too much on missing him. Afterward, one of these friends went walking with me in the desert, which was especially nice. I got to see the desert through her eyes, and I got to show her my “back yard.”

Today I start a new year. (In many respects, this is more of a birthday for me than the anniversary of my birth because after he died, I was born into a new life.) I’m not sure what I hope from this year. Peace, of course, but perhaps also adventure and challenge. (Sounds oxymoronic, doesn’t it?) But mostly, I want to accept whatever comes with the same courage and wisdom that helped me face the past three years.

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Posted in culture, grief, life. Tags: facing life with courage, grief and courage, grief and wisdom, life after loss. 7 Comments »

Three Years of Grief

March 27, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Today is, unexpectedly, a day like any other. So far, on this, the third anniversary of the death of my life mate/soul mate, I’ve experienced no great upsurges of grief, just that perpetual thread of sadness that bastes my life together.

During those first months of grief, my focus was completely on him, on his absence, on the horrendous feeling of goneness that his death left me with. It was as if by thinking of him, by holding him close in my thoughts, by reliving the horror of his final weeks, that somehow I could undo what had happened to him. But the years have taught me what logic didn’t — that he is gone and nothing I do or think or say or hope or pray will bring him back.

During his last days, he became childlike in his needs and actions (as if the combination of the cancer that spread to his brain and the drugs that kept the pain at bay killed the man, leaving only the inner child behind), which confused the issue in my mind. For a long time after his death, I panicked, wondering how he could take care of himself, wishing I could be there to calm his fears and his restless spirit, longing to hold him in my arms and keep him safe.

It’s only recently that the truth hit me. He was an adult, not a child, and except at the end, was more than capable of taking care of himself. Besides, if he does still exist somewhere, he is ageless, timeless, beyond any need of me and my feeble ministrations. (Feeble because nothing I could do erased a single moment of his pain or kept him alive one more day.)

There is an element of blank to my grief — an incomprehension of what it’s all about. I remember how grief feels, though I’m far enough along in the grief process that I have a hard time believing I was that shattered woman so lost in pain. But I don’t know the truth of life and death, and I’m not sure we humans are capable of understanding. And maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. It keeps us focused on our lives and not on . . . well, whatever else is out there.

Although time has insulated me from the rawness of my grief, and although my grief work has brought me to the point where I can once again see possibilities and feel hope, there is one thing I will never lose — that great yearning to see him one more time. To hear his voice. See his smile. To hold him tightly as if I would never let him go. But I have let him go. I let him go three years ago, not allowing my needs to bind him to his life of pain.

And I need to let him go now.

Well, here it is — the upsurge in grief I didn’t feel when I started writing this post. Tears are running down my face. I know I need to let him go, to let go of the grief that binds us together still, but not today. Today I will remember. And grieve.

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Posted in culture, grief, life, relationships. Tags: cancer, death of a soul mate, grief and loss, grief surge, third anniversary of grief, three years of grief. 7 Comments »

The Eve of My Third Anniversary of Grief

March 26, 2013 — Pat Bertram

In just a few hours, it will be three years since the death of my life mate/soul mate. It seems impossible I’ve survived so long. It seems impossible he’s been gone so long. Sometimes I feel as if we just said good-bye, as if I could call him up and see how he is doing, as if when I am finished caring for my father, I could go home again. But of course, those are just tricks of the ever-changing grief process.

I’ve been doing well recently, keeping busy, not letting myself get too caught up in the past. The present is complicated enough with my father’s growing dependency (though he has been doing well the past week or so, taking more of an interest in his own care). And the future is becoming more real, not quite as bleak as it has seemed during the past few years.

For all these months of grief, I’ve been worried about what will happen to me when my present responsibilities end. Oddly, during my mate’s long dying, I never really thought of the future. I just presumed I’d be okay. He told me things would come together for me, and I believed him. But now that I know how life feels with him gone, I’ve been afraid of stagnating, drowning in loneliness, living as quietly and unobtrusively as I’ve always done. The realization that I don’t have to find a place and settle down but can live on the go if I wish destroyed those fears with one clean stroke, and I’ve spent the past week figuring out the logistics of such an adventurous life. It won’t be easy since I have few financial resources and strong hermit tendencies, but the alternative — stagnation — makes such a future seem possible.

Because of all that is occupying my mind, I thought I’d sail right through this anniversary without an upsurge of grief, (though I always miss him; that’s a given) but grief will not be denied. If I don’t acknowledge my loss and sorrow, grief will acknowledge me. A couple of nights ago, I dreamed I was grieving for him. Dreamed I wanted to go home to him. Dreamed I cried for him. And when I woke, I was crying still.

I guess it’s just as well that the next stage of my life’s journey could be a long way off. Apparently I have grieving left to do. Chances are, I always will grieve to a certain extent, but now I’m more concerned about what to do with my life despite the grief. I’d hate to meet him again some day and have to admit that I spent my life awash in tears. He would be disappointed in me, and to be honest, so would I.

But three years. Has it really been so long since I last saw his smile? Last heard his voice? Last felt his arms around me? It’s hard for me to believe, but the calendar doesn’t lie.

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Posted in culture, grief, life, relationships. Tags: crying in my sleep, death of a soul mate, grief and loss, settling down, third anniversary of grief, three years of grief, upsurge of grief. 15 Comments »

Living Light and Free

March 25, 2013 — Pat Bertram

When I first started writing about my idea of living on the go after my current responsibilities end, I got many emails, comments, and messages suggesting a Winnebago, fifth wheel, or any of a variety of houses on wheels. Not so coincidentally, I’ve been noticing a plethora of such vehicles hogging the road, and frankly, I have absolutely no interest in that means of travel. (Though I do appreciate the interest in my plans.)

I know people love the convenience of taking their home with them, but such vehicles have always appalled me. They seem like civilization at its worst, the ultimate in conspicuous consumption and arrogance, dabbling in nature while not giving up comfort or technology. The only thing more appalling to me is the RV culture that has grown up around such a lifestyle, and I want no part of it.

The w Route 66 hole point of my journey is to travel light, being free to go where whim and circumstances carry me. To find home inside me or perhaps in the journey itself, to feel at home wherever I might be, whether it is a small town, a big city, the open road, or beside a mountain stream. There is no place in this vision — this vision quest — for a lumbering vehicle with a high environmental impact.

Besides that, a home on wheels screams loudly and clearly, “I am not of you. I am just passing through.” And for however long I stay in one place, I want to be of that place, a part of it in any way I can, to experience it not as a tourist, but in some more intimate way. It’s possible I’m just fooling myself, but still, this journey is supposed to be on my own terms, and my terms are that less is best. I’ve never really owned much, not even real furniture since I prefer empty rooms, and I sure don’t want to start owning things now.

To begin with, I will have enough of my past that I can’t get rid of — things that I made or were made for me, household goods my life mate/soul mate and I shared, belongings that remind me of who we were — and so I’ll need to rent a storage unit. Someday maybe even these few possessions can be disposed of, and then I really will be light and free.

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Posted in being me, culture, life. Tags: conspicuous consumption, feeling at home, fifth wheel, finding home, RV culture, RVs. 2 Comments »

Have You Been Clickjacked?

March 24, 2013 — Pat Bertram

The advent of the internet brought along with it a host of new terms that are basically unnecessary since to a great extent they are crimes or are cons that lead to a crime. For example, “social engineering” is a way of manipulating to people to divulge personal information, often in order to hack into their various accounts, both online accounts and bank accounts. Calling this con “social engineering” in no way lessens the crime. People have done time for such crimes.

Another term that seems to have become prevalent recently is “swatting.” A person calls 911 and “social engineers” the dispatcher into sending emergency personnel to an address, sometimes as a prank, more often as revenge to discredit an individual. Sometimes they use cyber skills such as “caller ID spoofing,” causing a different number to show up on caller ID. The goal of such calls is to get a whole SWAT team to descend on the unsuspecting household, hence the term “swatting.”

Not quite as serious, except to the person it happens to is “clickjacking,” which is when someone (or some computer robot) tries to get you to click on a link and divulge personal information. If you’re on Twitter of Facebook, you see such things all the time. “Did you see this picture of you lol,” is one I get freqently. Since hardly anyone ever takes my photo, and if they do, they either send it to me or post it on facebook, I know the link is a scam. And even if I didn’t know, I’m leery enough never to sign in to unfamiliar sites with my twitter or facebook passwords. I like to keep everything separate, though perhaps that is old-fashioned of me. (How strange to use the word “old fashioned” about something that is new within my life time.)

The point of this article is to be careful, of course. But mostly it’s a rebellion against the silly words that mask the simple truth. All of these actions — social engineering, swatting, clickjacking, caller ID spoofing, along with the dozens of terms not mentioned here — constitute fraud.

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Posted in culture, internet, life. Tags: caller ID spoofing, clickjacking, cyber crimes, fraud, revenge, social engineering, swatting. 13 Comments »

I stand united against rape because . . .

March 23, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I received an interesting request from a Facebook friend yesterday. This woman has been very supportive during my time of grief, helping me to believe that life will become new again. Because of this, she’s become not yet an offline friend, but more than most of my faceless Facebook friends, so I would have been inclined to grant her any favor.

As it turns out, responding to her request was easy and hard at the same time.

She wrote:

I am now the National Director of Public Relations for UniteWomen.org, a non-partisan women’s rights organization with a social media reach of over twenty million people around the world, and we are about to embark upon our “Unite Against Rape” campaign, which will involve posting an array of memes with short quotes taking a stand against rape. Some of these quotes will be from celebrities, and some will be from everyday men and women. We are hoping to get as much “star power” as we can at the kick-off of the campaign, and I thought of you and your books and I thought maybe we could use you in the campaign as a novelist. I am hoping you might like to participate by completing the statement “I stand united against rape because…” for an Internet meme.

Your quote would only need to be a sentence or two, and we would be incorporating it into a graphic that includes a photo of you (high resolution and from the waist up).

It is time to change the collective mentality and show that we are united against rape, and that we will stand up and speak out about it. If you would be willing to lend your name and likeness to UniteWomen.org’s “Unite Against Rape” campaign, I think it would be good for our campaign and give you some additional exposure for your blog.

Of course I said yes, that was the easy part. The hard part was the “because.” I stand united against rape because . . .

It is so self-evident that rape is wrong that I simply could not come up with a response. I thought of mentioning that rape is illegal, morally wrong, demeans all of us, steals our humanity. I thought of saying that such a barbaric custom has no place in the twenty-first century, but all of that is obvious. I mean, really — who is for rape? I bet even rapists would come out against rape since they probably don’t see what they do as rape.

In the end, all I said was, “I stand united against rape because rape is wrong. It’s as simple as that.”

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Posted in culture, internet, life, relationships. Tags: rape is wrong, Unite Against Rape, UniteWomen.org. 8 Comments »

Pat Bertram “Appreciation Weekend” Extravaganza

March 22, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I received a most wonderful packet in the mail today from my sister. She is very appreciative of all that I do for our father, and to show that appreciation, she is treating me to a gala weekend in Seattle. Chateau W is, of course, her lovely art-filled home, the only place I’ve ever been that makes me realize how wonderful a house really can be. And the chef? Her husband, a professional chef. A lovely home and a chef husband. She knows how to live! And she knows how to appreciate. Here is the itinerary she sent me in that packet.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Pat Bertram
“Appreciation Weekend” Extravaganza
Seattle, Washington
March 29 – 31, 2013

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champagne

Friday, March 29, 2013

~Travel: Alaska Airlines, Arrives Seattle WA 1:22PM

~Arrival: Curbside pick-up at Sea-Tac International Airport 1:30 PM

~Accommodations: Two nights lodging at Château W, featuring private Bed & Breakfast suite and 24/7 on-call Personal Chef Services

chateau

Saturday, March 30, 2013

1:00 PM Limousine service arrives at Château W for transport to Seattle Center

limousine

1:30 PM Arrival at McCaw Hall, Seattle Center

2:00 PM Shen Yun performance begins

…Bringing to life 5,000 years of Chinese civilization through classical Chinese dance and music in an exhilarating show you will never forget.

shenyun

5:00 PM Limousine arrives at McCaw Hall, Seattle Center for transport to Ray’s Boathouse

5:30 PM Dinner Reservations at Ray’s Boathouse
Amazing NW seafood, an award-winning wine list, and spectacular water views!

restaurant

7:30 PM Limousine arrives at Ray’s Boathouse for transport back to Château W

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Morning: Breakfast to Order (upon wakening)

Noon: Chateau W shuttle to SeaTac International Airport

Night: Alaska Airlines, Leaves Seattle WA 2:50PM

flowers

We are honored to serve as your weekend hosts, and we look forward to seeing you!

___________________________________________________________________________

It should be an incredible adventure. I can hardly wait!

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Posted in culture, life, relationships. Tags: “Appreciation Weekend” Extravaganza, limousine, McCaw Hall, Pat Bertram, Ray's Boathouse, Seattle Center, Shen Yun. 8 Comments »

Where My Books Originated

March 21, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Last night, while working on an online interview to be posted in a few weeks on a book interview site, I had an interesting epiphany. (Interesting to me, anyway.) I’ve written one non-fiction book about grief and four suspense novels, which at first glance are all completely different from one another. I did know the four novels had similar themes, but since the grief book was a personal account of my first year of grief rather than an imaginative story, I didn’t think it had anything in common with my fiction, but it does.

The unifying theme in all of my books is the perennial question: Who are we? More Deaths Than One suggests we are our memories. A Spark of Heavenly suggests we are the sum total of our experiences and choices. Daughter Am I suggests we are our heritage. Light Bringer suggests we are otherworldly. And Grief: The Great Yearning suggests we are what we love.

I’m also a bit of an iconoclast, and my books reflect that character.

Both More Deaths Than One and A Spark of Heavenly Fire debunk much of what we know about our shared past, especially when it comes to government control and human experimentation. (We have entrusted our lives to men and women who have not only not protected us from willful harm but instead have sold us out for . . . quite frankly, I’m still not sure what they sold us out for. Cash, in some cases, I’m sure. Power and political position, probably. The good of the whole at the expense of the few, possibly.)

Daughter Am I debunks some of the gangster myths that have been propagated by Hollywood.

Light Bringer debunks UFO myths, while at the same time postulates a greater UFO mystery.

And Grief: The Great Yearning debunks many of the myths about grief we have come to accept as truth.

The grief stages that Kübler-Ross proposed often don’t hold true for someone who has suffered a grievous loss, such as a child or a soul mate. In fact, those stages represented what she observed in terminal patients grieving for themselves and their own life. The final stage is acceptance, and acceptance of one’s own death is completely different from acceptance of another’s. I can learn to live without my soul mate and even accept it. I can admit that death relieved him of his suffering, but it is not my place to accept his death, since acceptance carries a connotation of it being okay, and I will never believe that it is okay for him to be dead. (For articles about the real stages of grief, see: The Mythic Stages of Grief, Grief and Lingering Feelings of Resentment, and Why “Grief: The Great Yearning” is Important.)

I suppose it makes sense that the same themes appear in all my books, no matter what the subject matter is since they all originated in the same place: a questioning mind that has often pondered the questions: Who are we? and What is life all about?

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Posted in books, culture, fiction, writing. Tags: experiences and choices, grief stages, Hollywood myths, Kubler-ross, who are we? we are what we love. 5 Comments »

A Thousand Miles From My Cool Green Home

March 20, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Three or four times my life mate and I packed up everything and moved without any idea of where we were going. I remember the looks of non-comprehension mixed with envy I’d get when I’d tell my new acquaintances how we ended up where we did, especially if those people were dreaming of leaving that very place. Perhaps it did seem a bit strange that we were so foolish or so daring to move from a place with no destination in mind and no clear plans of what to do when we arrived, but we always hoped for a better life for us. Those hopes were not fulfilled, at least not in the way we wanted, so it amazes me we took the leap so many times.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget how free I felt when we left a place behind and set out for an unknown future. It felt as if the whole world lay ahead of us, and anything was possible. Once we spent the night in a motel at the truck stop in Nephi, Utah. We had no worries at the moment, nothing to do, nowhere to go, and we talked about how much fun it would be to live there at that truck stop. (Sort of like an upscale version of Bagdad Café, though this was long before the movie was filmed.) Staying wasn’t practical at the time, and so we found a place back in Colorado to settle down for a while. And the web of everyday life began to entrap us once again.

Eventually we stopped taking those trips into the unknown, though we’d still occasionally look for that ideal place. One planned trip took us to eastern New Mexico. We were standing in the middle of a dusty town — no more than a crossroads, really — and he seemed unexpectedly peaceful as he looked around that wide empty space. There were no places to rent, of course, and nothing for sale, and even if we had found a place, the nearest grocery store and library were a long way away, which would have made living there a logistical nightmare, and so we returned home. By then, all the trees and bushes we’d planted had grown up and leafed out. Our place looked cool and green, and the blue Colorado light seemed soothing after the yellowish glare of that little town.

We never moved again. His illness eventually trapped us, and then he was gone.

I am now a thousand miles from that cool green home, and a million miles from him. He no longer has a say in what I do, but still, I wonder what he would think of my plans to live a nomadic life — living nowhere and everywhere. Would he remember the times of freedom when we were temporarily untethered, and be glad for me? Or would he think of my being rootless and alone and be sad for me? I know he’d tell me to be careful, to be smart, to be alert.

I just wish I could hear him give his warnings in person, but then, if he were here to advise me, I wouldn’t need to be considering such an adventure, such a leap into the future.

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