Tips from THE QUEEN OF REJECTION®

Traveling Back in Time - From Self-Rejection to Self-Acceptance

Elayne Savage, PhD

Sometimes we have the opportunity to revisit the
past, and look at ourselves through a new lens. If we're

lucky we can use the experience as a marker to appreciate

ourselves in a fresh way and see how far we've come.

In my case, I got to discard the old rejection filter.

Recently I  spoke at an event at the University of Alabama,
my undergraduate alma mater. This is only my second
trip back since graduation. My last visit was 20 years
ago.

This time I returned as a grownup.

It's not easy to go back to old venues. The insecurities of
the past come flooding back. All the self-doubts, the
fear of rejection, the negative self-talk . . . and the feelings
of vulnerability.

What a mess I was when I arrived as a Freshman on the
Bama campus. I was confused and dazed from recent
events in my life.

Just a few years earlier, my mother and grandmother had
died in a plane crash. Then my father remarried and we
moved from Omaha to Baltimore. What a culture shock
that was! And how resentful I was that I had to start over
in a new town my senior year of high school.

Not Fitting In
I felt 'different' from my peers. Like I didn't fit in. And truth be
told, I probably seemed a little odd. And what could I have
been thinking to attend a Southern school when feeling
'different' and left out was my big issue?

I didn't talk about my growing up experiences to anyone.

A few folks intuitively made attempts to bestow kindnesses.
However, I had trouble accepting their efforts and often
pushed away.

One of the bestowers was John L. Blackburn. He was the
Dean of Men when I was a co-ed. He was understanding,
caring and patient. I sure needed those kindnesses. In my
eventual role as a student leader and Business Manager
of the Mahout humor magazine, I got to know him. pretty
well over the years.

And he made an effort to know me. When I got into trouble or
needed a rule bent a bit, I'd be knocking on his office door.
John L. would run interference for me with the Dean of
Women's office. I guess you could say he was my 'go-to' guy.

Not without a price, however. John L. tried his best to keep me
out of trouble with quite a few stern but kindly talkings-to.

In those days, there were countless rules -  just waiting
to be broken:
- Alcoholic drinks  had to be in
  'unrevealing containers.' 
- Coeds were to wear  raincoats on
  campus to conceal jeans or shorts.
- Co-eds couldn't walk up the steep steps
  of the Student Union if wearing skirts.
- There was a 10 pm weekday curfew:

   "Sign out, Sign In, where you goin'?

   Where you been?"
 
After I graduated and moved to California, John L. would say to
me: "If you get back here, I'd like to have a little get-together for
you." So I'm thinking he meant a backyard barbecue in
Tuscaloosa.

That's not what he had in mind.

I did get back to Alabama in 1990. He hosted a banquet style
dinner at The Club in Birmingham. It  wasn't  a barbecue  at all.
It was more like a ROAST.They took turns telling stories on me.
It was an embarrassingly sweet and special evening.

John L. was my go-to guy several times over the years. He wrote
reference letters for my early job searches. He arranged to have
Forrest Gump (via Winston Groom) write a book jacket blurb for

my first book, 'Don't Take It Personally! The Art of Dealing with

Rejection.'

There was no doubt whatsoever that I would make this trip to the
University to speak at the celebration of John L's life after he died.

I felt so honored to be on the program. There were 250 people
in the audience paying tribute to his accomplishments: as the
person credited with making sure the 'school house door'
stayed open and welcoming in the summer of 1963, as Dean
of Men, and as Vice President for Educational Development.
His legacy lives on with the establishment of the Blackburn
Institute, a leadership development program on the Alabama
campus. Mostly, though he was remembered as  a person of
great kindness and compassion.

I only wish our contacts over the years hadn't been so infrequent.
 Sometimes way too many years went by.

Revisiting Old Haunts and Old Feelings
What an amazing experience to walk around campus,
remembering the bittersweetness of those days so many
years ago.

When I was a student, my sensitivity to 'being different' caused
me to feel left out and less-than. Too often this contributed to
overwhelming perceptions of rejection. Yep, my self-esteem
was pretty low.

What an emotionally corrective experience to return as a
professional grownup, making a valuable contribution to the
event.

How refreshing to return to the campus and be treated with
respect and acceptance. I had such gracious escorts during
my stay in Tuscaloosa and in Birmingham. It was especially

rewarding to reconnect with John L.'s  wife, Gloria Blackburn,

and be told I "held a special place in his heart."

And I was able to take it all in and accept it, instead of pushing
it away. I guess I was finally able to ditch that old rejection filter.

In the acknowledgments for 'Don't Take It Personally!' I thanked
John L. for his encouragement and for  "figuring sooner or later
I’d grow into my capabilities."
http://tinyurl.com/5cg598

I hope John L. took that thank you in. I guess you can tell, he
holds a special place in my heart too.

Isn't it wonderful how some people touch our lives only briefly or
sporadically, yet they become part of our soul.
© Elayne Savage, PhD
 

Until next month,

Elayne

Elayne Savage is the author of ground-breaking books published in 9 languages.

You can order books and CDs directly from my website.
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/publications.htm

To order DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY! THE ART OF DEALING
WITH REJECTION from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/5cg598

To order BREATHING ROOM — CREATING SPACE TO BE 
A COUPLE from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/2e3objs

REPRINTING THESE e-LETTERS

You can use the articles in 'Tips from The Queen of Rejection'^®
as long as you include a complete attribution and, whenever
possible, a live link to my website. Please notify me where and
when the material will appear.

The attribution should include this information:

Elayne Savage, PhD is a communication coach, professional
speaker, practicing psychotherapist and author. To find out 
more about her speaking  programs, coaching and services visit
http://www.QueenofRejection.com
or call 510-540-6230

AND if you or your group can benefit from how not to take 
rejection so personally, let's talk about tailoring one of my 
speaking programs for you.

Contacting Elayne

I welcome your feedback as well as suggestions for topics you'd 
like to see addressed in this e-letter.

Here's how you can reach me:

Elayne Savage
elayne@QueenofRejection.com
510-540-6230

PRIVACY POLICY:  Your name and email address are confidential.
I will not rent, trade or sell your contact information to anyone.

Class Reunion – A Time For Reflection

TIPS FROM THE QUEEN OF REJECTION^®
Elayne Savage, PhD
July, 2009

 

IN THIS ISSUE
1. Class Reunion – A Time For Reflection
2. Always The Last to Know
3. Feeling Like a Freak
4. New information Rocks My World
5. New Found Appreciation
6.  Contacting Elayne
7.  Privacy Notice and Subscription Information

Class Reunion – A Time For Reflection
by Elayne Savage, PhD

The prospect of a class reunion can be frightening.This isn't my first one, yet I don't remember looking so critically at myself before.

The reunions used to be held every five years. Now they are every ten. I didn't know about the first few because I was 'lost.' You see, I did not actually graduate from Omaha Central High. When my dad remarried we moved to Baltimore for my senior year.

Because I want to be like everyone else I've learned to take care of myself. I realized my name tag would be photo-less because I was not in the senior yearbook. So I scanned my Baltimore high school photo and sent it to the event planner asking them to put my photo on the tag.  They did.

Two days before boarding the plane in San Francisco I got cold feet. I honestly found myself thinking about ways I could get out of going.

I also did something I haven't done in years. I stood in front of my closet, fretting about what clothes to bring. I thought I'd outgrown that kind of indecisiveness. I've learned to trust I usually look good enough. But not this time. I kept pulling clothes from my closet and piling them on the bed. I tried on lots of outfits. Nothing looked right. I was aware of the old high school uncertainties flooding back. Yuck. I thought I had outgrown that. Guess not.

Truth be told, I was very close to changing my mind about going. It can be dangerous when we start thinking about ways to get out of something we dread doing. We might even conjure up a situation where we don’t have to follow through. But I managed to get through those last days without breaking a leg or arm. I even got to the airport on time.

I'm so glad I went. This has been an amazing, enriching experience. I cherish time with my Central High classmates.  Yet as connected as I feel during these reunion weekends, we somehow manage to not keep in touch from reunion to reunion. This is true of even my best high school friends.

As we go through life we develop notions about the world around us and the people in it.  Wow. Was this ever true for me in high school. Self-doubt took over. I took everything personally. I was the kid who was different from everyone else because I didn't have a mother. I was the poorer kid who wore my cousin's hand-me-downs.

This long reunion weekend with Omaha Central High classmates gave me the opportunity to stop seeing things from the lens of inferiority. I could begin to see the world through a different filter. I watched myself grow up over the weekend.

But not before I started to fall into the old trap of feeling 'different' and 'left out.'

Always The Last to Know

The 'left out' part crept my first day there when my older cousin said, "By the way, Barb called and invited you to the pizza party tomorrow night for the old gang."

I immediately told myself, "I guess I'm the last to know about the party. I'm an afterthought again." 

I had always felt not exactly part of that 'gang.' I felt on the periphery much of the time. (Sure, I realize now that most of us feel left out in high school. If you ask the really popular kids they will tell you the same thing.)

When I got to the restaurant I found out the party was an afterthought. It had materialized only the day before. What started out as a group of 6 people grew to a party of 35 or so.

Hmmmmmmm. Interesting, isn't it, how fast I went to that old 'left out' default position?

At each of the reunion events, the 'official' ones and the smaller private gatherings, I could see people were genuinely glad to see me. When someone remembered and shared something about me from those high school days, I could take in their words. Once in a while, someone would say, "I don't remember you," I was OK with hearing that as well. I didn't remember lots of people either.

It was great fun to reconnect with some high school classmates I remembered from 6th grade when we were in a City-wide play. Some of us car-pooled together. I remember I had a mad crush on one of the boys from those play days. Whenever I had a chance to talk with him during rehearsals or performances, I would roll my eyes back into my head. I guess I though it was cool or something. Once he asked me, "Is something wrong with your eyes?" Guess I was wrong about it being a neat, flirty thing to do. I stopped rolling them.

Three of four of us from those play days showed up for this reunion. One even came from Italy. But the fourth actor was missing. Peter Hoagland, who served in the U.S. House of Representatives from Nebraska, died almost two years ago.

I was really looking forward to seeing my friend from middle school, Rosalee. We'd ride the bus together almost every day downtown to Central. She'd be already there always sitting in the same seat, wearing her red coat, waiting for me to board. I looked for her at the reunion events but couldn't find her. Then I saw her name. On the list of classmates who died. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

Feeling Like a Freak

I mentioned how I felt different from the others. Part of this was being poorer. Part was being without a mother in a world where it seemed every other family was intact. Back in those days there were rarely separations or divorces. I surely didn't know anyone else in a single parent family. Most especially where the mom had died.

Because my mother and grandmother died in a much-publicized plane crash when I was12, I felt so different. My brother Lee and I learned not to talk about the crash, not to offer information about being motherless. It was always awkward because people did not know what to say to us. So we didn't say anything to anybody.

During those high school years I felt like a freak.

New information Rocks My World

Imagine my amazement to learn I was not the only one in my class without a mother! Within the space of 3 1/2 hours I learned some startling information in chance conversations from two classmates.  They also had mothers who died before we arrived in high school.

None of us ever talked about it. Each of us thought we were the only one. And after the reunion I connected with yet another classmate who also grew up in a single parent household. One with no father. He, too, thought he was the only one of our group with a missing parent.

We all could have been good company for each other if we had not felt the need to be so secretive and protective. How many others are there with similar experiences in our 400 plus class?

New Found Appreciation

I got to spend lots of time 'catching up' with my good friend Gail. What a special person she was back then and continues to be. What treat to have lunch together not just once, but twice. I appreciated Gail back then, but even more so now. This time we're determined to stay in contact between reunions. And so far, we're doing a pretty good job of it.

As I walked the halls of Central High, I could see many parallels about appreciation. After all these years I have a new respect for the stately beauty of the 100 year old massive building: the curved wooden doors and moldings and banisters. The beautiful art deco light fixtures. The courtyard. The many things I took for granted back then. And so it is with friendships. With this reunion comes new appreciation. And gratitude.

I'm glad I managed to get on that plane. It was a fantastic experience in spite of a weekend of bad hair days and two prominent pimples – arriving just for the occasion. And you know what? Once I'd relaxed enough to make these longed-for reconnections, my hair, and zits didn't seem important any longer.

© Elayne Savage, PhD

Until next time,
Elayne

Elayne Savage is the author of books published in 9 languages.

You can order books and CDs directly from my website now.
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/publications.htm

To order DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY! THE ART OF DEALING
WITH REJECTION from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/5cg598

To order BREATHING ROOM — CREATING SPACE TO BE
A COUPLE from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/2e3objs 

REPRINTING THESE e-LETTERS

You can use the articles in 'Tips from The Queen of Rejection'^®
as long as you include a complete attribution and, whenever
possible, a live link to my website. Please notify me where and
when the material will appear.

The attribution should include this information:

Elayne Savage, PhD is a communication coach, professional
speaker, practicing psychotherapist and author. To find out
more about her speaking  programs, coaching and services visit
http://www.QueenofRejection.com
or call 510-540-6230

AND if you or your group can benefit from how not to take
rejection so personally, let's talk about tailoring one of my
speaking programs for you.

Contacting Elayne

I welcome your feedback as well as suggestions for topics you'd
like to see addressed in this e-letter.

Here's how you can reach me:

Elayne Savage
elayne@QueenofRejection.com
510-540-6230

PRIVACY POLICY:  Your name and email address are confidential.
I will not rent, trade or sell your contact information to anyone.

Out of the Ashes – A Joyous Reunion of Grief

TIPS FROM THE QUEEN OF REJECTION^®
Elayne Savage, PhD
February, 2009

IN THIS ISSUE
1. Out of the Ashes – A Joyous Reunion of Grief
2. 'The Other Plane Crash'
3. Making Losses Real
4. My Secret Hope Comes True
5. The Community Pitches In
6. Really Great Detective Work
7. A Reunion of Survivors
8. Contacting Elayne
9. Privacy Notice and Subscription Information

Out of the Ashes – A Joyous Reunion of Grief
By Elayne Savage, PhD

The community of Swaledale, Iowa is joining my brother and me in grieving a plane crash that happened 55 years ago. With compassion and understanding they are inviting us to experience a kind of kinship. An acceptance of us.

These many years Lee and I have been searching for information about the plane crash that killed our mother and grandmother. And now we have some answers.

This coming together of community started three weeks ago when my brother, Lee Raskin, wrote a short piece memorializing the 50th Anniversary of the deaths of Buddy Holly, J.P. (The Big Bopper) Richardson and Richie Valens. They died when their single-engine Beech-Bonanza crashed into an Iowa cornfield during a snow storm.

You're probably familiar with 'The Day the Music Died,' Don McLean's song about the loss of these musicians. And you may remember the line "So bye bye Miss American Pie . . ." But do you know that 'American Pie' is the nickname the locals bestowed on the red and white Bonanza?

'The Other Plane Crash'
With each mention of that crash we're reminded our mother and grandmother died five years earlier in a cornfield just a few miles away.

Their Braniff DC-3 was forced down during a violent rainstorm, as they approached the Mason City, Iowa airport. Not every one died. Seven people survived, including the flight hostess.

Lee and I just learned that Elwin Musser, the Mason City Globe Gazette photographer, took the photos of both plane disasters. We also learned that he is still living in Mason City and that there are unpublished photos of the crash. We'd like to see them.

So Lee emailed John Skipper, editor of the Globe Gazette, trying to make direct contact with Mr. Musser. Lee included his 50th Anniversary tribute where he describes 'the other plane crash.'

Lee writes, "Coincidentally, it was the second notable air crash within five years that occurred near the farming town of Mason City, Iowa.  On August 22, 1954, a Braniff Air DC-3 crashed while approaching the Mason City Airport during a violent thunder and hail storm.

"In that DC-3 air disaster, twelve of nineteen on board were killed. The majority of those killed were sitting on the same side of the plane that cart-wheeled into a corn field. Among the dead were Sarah Wolfson and her daughter, Goldie Raskin, of Omaha, Nebraska, who were on their way to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.

"Today, 50 years later...We commemorate Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper's musical achievements , . . I also took a moment to recall my mom, Goldie Raskin and grandmom, Sarah Wolfson . . ."

The editor, John Skipper, immediately responded. He describes how the area has been visited by celebrities the last week to memorialize 'The Day the Music Died.' He feels the real story here is about ordinary people like Lee and I who are also survivors.

And he wrote a sensitive, touching feature story about Lee, me and the DC-3. "A snapshot into the lives of two people directly affected by the crash."

http://tinyurl.com/aa7r8u

Many of you have heard my stories about the plane crash in my books and speaking programs. I reflect on the sudden loss of these two important women and the impact of that abandonment on my life.

Making Losses Real
We were not allowed to grieve in our family. We did not attend the funeral. We could not speak of my mother. My dad removed all photos of her from our house. And he sold his business and took a job traveling, so we lost him much of the time as well. Another abandonment.
Some of my perceptions of those days are chronicled in 'My Mother's Plane Keeps Crashing'
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/article_mothersplane.htm

and in 'Who's Protected in Holding Back Painful Photos?'
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/article_photos.htm
(By the way, this piece is relevant in current news about allowing photos of the arriving military caskets.)

My family's inept response made the loss surreal. And it stayed that way. A couple of years ago someone reminded me in order to grieve a loss it has to be made real. Then we can move on. I knew I had to find a way to make the loss real. Then it came to me: I could visit a DC-3. I found one in LA and made a 'pilgrimage' in March, 2007. It was a moving and life-changing experience for me.
http://queenofrejection.typepad.com/tips/2007/10/index.html

Just recently, my professional speaker colleague, Jason Gore, who pilots a small plane discovered a local DC-3. He arranged a visit and brought along his camcorder to capture my experience in a series of interviews.

And in the mysterious ways of the Universe, this latest pilgrimage happened to take place only three days before my brother contacted the Mason City newspaper editor.

My Secret Hope Comes True
Truth be told, each time I go public with my story, I've secretly hoped someone would recognize the circumstance and contact me. I would fantasize them saying: "I knew someone who survived that crash" or I know a family who lost someone on that plane" or "I grew up on a nearby farm and witnessed the crash." 

Well, it finally happened. When the Globe Gazette article appeared, witnesses stepped forward.

I pinch myself as each day brings new contact with someone wanting to share their impressions with us.

People from the Swaledale farming community have never forgotten that August 22 day. They are still deeply affected. They often think of the scene. Vivid memories stay with each of them. Sometimes nightmares.

The Community Pitches In
We are so grateful to hear their stories about how the Swaledale community pitched in to help with the injured and to protect the dead until the officials got organized. They tell us how neighbors volunteered for search and rescue until ambulances could get through the mud, torrential rain, tall corn. They used their tractors to remove gawkers' cars from blocking the road so the rescue vehicles could get through. They used barn doors as stretchers.

We were mesmerized by Karen's stories about how her neighbors worked together to help out. Karen was about my age at the time the plane crashed on her family's farm. We were moved by Larry's account of how he helped his Dad with the search and rescue. He, too, was 12 years old. We learned more details about those who died and those who survived from Karen's brother Keith who also participated in search and rescue. He was 15 years old.

I'm fascinated to learn that two of the residents who contacted us were my age at the time – 12 years old. How fast we all grew up that day. How our lives changed when we were all made aware of how fragile a human life is. 

Really Great Detective Work
Reading the articles, Lee and I noticed some of the listed survivors were in their twenties at the time of the crash. Is it possible they might be alive today? Could we find them?

We decided to try to locate the flight hostess and the passenger whose life she saved by dragging her across muddy fields, over fences and to the road. She flagged down a truck and the owner of the farm drove them both to the hospital.

Lee is a fantastic investigator. He was able to trace both women and determine their married names. When the trails got cold I helped out a bit and came up with current addresses.

We located both of them and made contact!

Can you imagine what it is like for us to talk to these women? And how wonderful it feels to pave the way for them to reconnect with each other after all these years?

Can you picture how joyful it is to join with the Swaledale community in this reunion of grief? Fifty-five years later. The word that comes to my mind is 'rejuvenating.'          

For 55 years Lee and I have lived with this unhealed wound. Every year we dread the arrival of August 22 because of the memories it brings. We've existed in our narrow little world of memories. Feeling 'different' from our school friends, rarely talking about our past. It was always awkward to try to explain that our mother died in a plane crash. People just don't know how to respond.  So we said nothing.

We were stunned to hear that our own experience is shared by the Swaledale community. Now we understand how the crash which changed our lives forever has affected others as well.

A Reunion of Survivors
Knowing we are part of this reunion of survivors is an incredible experience. Now that we have discovered one another, we are able to be a small comfort for each other. Even the newspaper editor wrote me about the personal affect our story has on him. "Thank you for the opportunity to tell your story and to open another door in my life." He reflects how my article, 'My Mother's Plane Keeps Crashing' is a reminder that not everyone can move on as easily as others.

When he published this 'snapshot' of us did he have any idea what a huge door he was opening for all of us survivors to come together as community?

This story is taking on a life of it's own. It is becoming a journey of strength and gratitude and renewed hope.

© Elayne Savage, PhD

Elayne Savage is the author of books published in 9 languages.

You can order books and CDs directly from my website now.
http://www.QueenofRejection.com/publications.htm

To order DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY! THE ART OF DEALING
WITH REJECTION from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/5cg598

To order BREATHING ROOM — CREATING SPACE TO BE
A COUPLE from Amazon:
http://tinyurl.com/2e3objs

REPRINTING THESE e-LETTERS

You can use the articles in 'Tips from The Queen of Rejection'^®
as long as you include a complete attribution and, whenever
possible, a live link to my website. Please notify me where and
when the material will appear.

The attribution should include this information:

Elayne Savage, PhD is a communication coach, professional
speaker, practicing psychotherapist and author. To find out
more about her programs, and services visit
http://www.QueenofRejection.com
or call 510-540-6230

Contacting Elayne

I welcome your feedback as well as suggestions for topics you'd
like to see addressed in this e-letter.

Here's how you can reach me:

Elayne Savage
elayne@QueenofRejection.com
510-540-6230

2607 Alcatraz Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94708

Pilgrimage to a DC-3 - The Voices of My Ancestors Whisper to My Granddaughter

TIPS FROM THE QUEEN OF REJECTION^®
October, 2007

Welcome to the 12th issue of Tips from The Queen of Rejection(TM)

IN THIS ISSUE
1. Pilgrimage to a DC-3 - The Voices of My Ancestors Whisper to
     My Granddaughter
2, Poof. They Were Gone
3. Wrapped in Silence
4. Making Grief Real
5. "There Are All Your Ancestors resting snugly in Your DNA . . ."
6. Baby Cora and the DC-3
7. Contacting Elayne
8. Privacy Notice and Subscription Information

1. PILGRIMAGE TO A DC-3 - THE VOICES OF MY ANCESTORS
    WHISPER TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER
    By Elayne Savage, Ph.D.

What a moving experience it was holding my new granddaughter in
my arms. Whenever she'd open those big eyes it seemed she was
connecting with my soul. And I was connecting to hers as well.

As I looked into her eyes, I was looking into the past, present
and future at the same time. I was recognizing the importance of
this newest female member of my linage.

2. POOF. THEY WERE GONE

I'm trying to put words to how much it means to me that this
baby is a girl. Her arrival in the world symbolizes the next
generation of female lineage. A continuation of a broken line
of women.

The women of the two generations before me, my mother and grandmother, were wiped out in an instant in a plane crash. They were aboard
a Braniff DC-3 that crashed into a corn field near Mason City, Iowa over 
50 years ago. Poof. They were both gone. Two generations of 
female role models. Two generations of nurturing. Two generations
of support. And two generations of storytelling.

I missed out on being able to sit at their feet and hear
their stories. Stories about the Cossack soldiers ravaging
their village.  Stories about what it was like to travel
through China by rickshaw. Stories about being quarantined
on Angel Island for 3 months.  Stories about building a new
life in Omaha. Stories about their experiences in raising
children.

Over the years there have been many questions unformed and
many questions unanswered. Yes, I have missed all of those
untold stories.

3. GRIEF WRAPPED IN SILENCE

The aftermath of that plane crash was handled badly by my family.
This very public loss caused a city to mourn, yet my brother Lee and I
were not allowed to grieve either publicly or privately.

Everything was wrapped in silence. The newspaper articles
and crash scene pictures were hidden from us. We didn't attend
the funeral. We weren't allowed to talk about my mother.

My Dad removed all photos of her from the house. We thought
he'd thrown them out, but after he died my brother found the
albums tucked away in the back of the highest shelf of Dad's
closet. He'd moved with them 4 times, yet we never knew they
existed. It's nice to have them back.

Lee and I were able to do some grieving five years later when
another plane crash into a corn field made headlines. Buddy Holly,
J.P. (Big Bopper) Richardson and Richie Valens were killed. The
crashes were only a few miles apart outside of Mason City, Iowa.

Yes, I've worked on these losses for many years in therapy. Yet there
always seemed to be something missing.

A few years ago something fortuitous happened. After presenting
a one-day training program several miles from my home, I decided
to stay the night at a local Bed and Breakfast. Intuitively I told the
B&B owner the story of the plane crash. It turns out he is a grief
counselor.

He presented me with the missing piece: to grieve a loss and move
on, we need to make the loss real.

Yes, of course. That's what was missing. The deaths of my
mother and grandmother were never made real. 

4. MAKING GRIEF REAL

One day I woke up knowing what to do. I must visit a DC-3.

For several years I fantasized about locating and visiting a
DC-3. One I could visit without other people around. I wanted
some time to myself on the plane.

(Telling the richly detailed story of the DC-3 has become part of my
professional speaking programs. Some of you may have been
in my audience and heard this story before. I'm including a few
selective descriptions of my pilgrimage. I've chosen these
because they are related to carrying on the female legacy which
Miss Cora symbolizes for me.)

Early last year I gathered the courage to track down a restored
DC-3.  Making the actual arrangements to visit the plane came
about from a confluence of many happenings.

Lots of serendipity is involved - a chance conversation with a
fellow professional speaker who is a pilot, the support of my
boyfriend, Burt, who encouraged me to follow through with the
phone call that eventually led to making the appointment to
visit the plane.

Matt, the Operations Manager at the Santa Monica airport pointed
me to a restored plane at the Van Nuys Airport. It is the private plane
of a major Southern California Aviation figure, Clay Lacy.

I took a deep breath and called. The receptionist told me
"Oh no you can't visit this plane. This is Mr. Lacy's private plane." 

I took another deep breath. I wasn't going to be deterred.
I persisted, told my story and asked to speak to a decision
maker. Mr. Lacy's personal assistant called back the next
day: "Mr. Lacy would be pleased to have you visit his plane!"
Burt went with me as witness. We were escorted from the
office to the plane which was on the tarmac. (But my experience
of the plane is another story.)

By way of preparing for this pilgrimage I contacted a few
friends and a listserve of therapist colleagues asking for
support and suggestions of rituals I might do on the plane.

It was a big step for me to reach out publicly. I'm glad I did.
I felt I was being cradled in the strong and comforting arms
of a caring community. 

My time on the plane was an amazing event.

I was able to stay present and to experience the moments on
a cellular, energetic level.

I was able to imagine my mother and grandmother beside me
on the plane. I could imagine talking with them, especially
with my mother.

I could feel myself reconnecting with her in a new way.

I could ask questions and receive answers.

I could laugh again with my mother, sharing some memories.

I could also tell her about my life, my disappointments and
my successes.

One of the reasons I wanted to visit a DC-3 was to be able
to release the shackles that have constrained me for so many
years. When I was sitting on the plane I could feel the chains
falling away. I could feel myself rebalancing and realigning.

I was able to achieve the healing and liberation I've missed out on
for so many years.

A couple of years ago someone made me a beautiful blue felt pouch,
decorated with lace and leather and shells.
I'd never used the pouch because it was so lovely, so special. 
As I contemplated my pilgrimage, I realized this pouch was waiting
for just the right time to be the guardian of something very precious.

I put into the pouch photos of my mother and grandmother.
Photos of myself and my brother Lee as we grew up.
Photos of my daughter Jocelyn.

Then I imagined putting the essence of my mother and grandmother
into the pouch, and I carried their spirits onto the plane with me.

In retrospect I believe the conversations, phone calls and
arrangements for the pilgrimage came to pass because I had just
learned my daughter was expecting a baby. 

5. "THERE ARE ALL YOUR ANCESTORS RESTING SNUGLY
     IN YOUR DNA . . ."

One of the therapists who responded to my request sent me this
quote which I also put into the blue pouch to carry with me on the
DC-3. 

I re-read the words on that piece of paper many times in the hour I
spent on the plane:

"But when we take the time to really give thanks to our ancestors,
we place them in their proper context, granting them neither more
nor less than their due.
We are able to use the lessons they have taught us - even
if by negative example - and move beyond their legacy to
claim our rightful place in the world.

Dawna Markova says, "Look in the palm of your hand.
Thich Nhat Hanh would say that if you look deeply
enough, you'll never be lonely. Each cell of your hand is made
from genetic material passed on to you from your mother and father.
Whether you adored or despised them, there they are in the palm
of your hand. If you look a little deeper, you'll see your grandfathers
and grandmothers.

Deeper still, and there are all your ancestors resting snugly in your
DNA . . .
Can you hear them whispering in your ear,
'Maybe this is the one who will carry our dreams into the world,
    maybe this is the one who will move beyond the
    limitations that have held us back and carry our dreams
    into the world.'"
               -- From Attitudes of Gratitude by Mary Jane Ryan

6. BABY CORA AND THE DC-3

Just after Cora was born, I corresponded with my cousin
Dr. Steve Raskin. Intuitively I decided to send him the
above quote about DNA. Steve emailed back with this
"little biology lesson." He reminded me that there
are two kinds of DNA in cells. One is  "nuclear DNA which
exists in chromosomes and are subject to recombination over
the generations, resulting in the complexity of human variation.

But there is some other DNA in the cell known as
"mitochondrial" DNA that exists in the cytoplasm
OUTSIDE the cell nucleus. The mitochondria are passed
completely from mother to daughter and that DNA
does not take part in any recombination. 

You are the bearer of your mother's and her mother's
mitochondria (and mitochondrial DNA), just as Jocelyn
and - now - Cora are also. You might get a good feeling
knowing that tiny little pieces of your mother are part
of your granddaughter."

So in this communication with a cousin I haven't seen in
over 30 years, I came to realize why holding this little
girl was such a spiritual experience for me. Cora is more
connected to my mother and my grandmother than I ever
realized. 

Had I known this baby was to be a girl at the time I
made the pilgrimage, my experience on the plane would
have been even more powerful. For too many years I let
the accident define me. I was frozen in the drama of
the 12-year-old child.

On the plane I was able to visualize the chains falling
away. I was able to see my experience as the ending of
something and the beginning of something else.

I began to understand that I don't have to be a hurt,
scared child any longer. I recognize that my inherited
potential is unimpeded by the tragedies of the past. I
CAN fly - even soar.

Now I'm the grandmother, Jocelyn is the mother and baby
Cora is the child. 

I can hear the ancestors whispering in my ear and in
Jocelyn's ear and in Cora's ear:    
"Maybe this is the one who will carry our
    dreams into the world,
    maybe this is the one who will move beyond the
    limitations that have held us back and carry our
    dreams into the world"

© 2007 Elayne Savage, Ph.D.

Until next time,
Elayne

Elayne Savage is the author of books published in 9 languages.

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