From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Today is Sunday, the day I dreaded when I was a kid. It  used to be the most boring day of the week! Mom insisted that it wasn’t acceptable to do any work, even sewing or playing cards. Sunday was a day of rest.

We couldn’t go to the movies. In the fifties, before we had a TV, we had to create our own entertainment. It was family time. Don’t bother calling friends; they’re busy with relatives too. Sometimes we’d get in Dad’s Chevy and drive to a relative’s house to visit. I loved visiting Uncle Tony and Aunt Janette’s house because they had twin boys my age. I loved going out to Uncle Emery and Aunt Jean’s house because their son Emery Jr. and I had fun sledding. If the family we visited had kids my age, or any kids to play with, Sundays could be fun. But if it was only grownups, I would be bored, miserable. I was a kid who wanted kids to play with. Even a sister or brother would have been acceptable. I was an only child for eight long years.

If we didn’t visit relatives, or host relatives at our house, we drove to friends of mom and dad. Often we’d visit the Pladsons who had three girls I’d play with, Gwen, Carol and Dorothy, or we might go to Amundsons’ house where their son Richard was just a little older than me. If we went to the Husoms, I felt lucky because their daughter Inez passed on her clothes to me sometimes. If we visited the Fjosliens, Sandy and Gary were a treat to play with.

But as I grew older, Sunday wasn’t such a strict “You can’t do that! It’s Sunday.” Of course Sunday morning church was a given, and Mom usually made a big Sunday dinner for her family. The designated menu was either chicken or a beef roast which we ate around the dining room table. Some Sundays our family drove to Lowry where we felt spoiled. It was a treat to eat a chicken dinner at the Dahl Café in Lowry.

When I was in college, far away from home, I sometimes missed that old schedule of family visiting friends and relatives. Usually the folks would call me to ask about my week on Sunday night. Check in time was so important to a lonely freshman in  college. When I got my first job teaching outside Chicago, I’d call to check in with the folks on Sunday.

Mom used to say that Sunday can be the “loneliest day of the week.” I can still hear Esther telling me that. She was a people person with many friends, but life got lonely as the years passed, and many of her friends passed on. As our moms and their friends and neighbors aged, many moved out of their homes to assisted-living homes, where folks probably sat together making excuses for the absence of their children.

Kids are busy. They’re tired. They’re carting kids to sports or music or lessons somewhere… Growing families are demanding and tiring. Our kids have lots of responsibilities, but oh how we miss their presence in our lives. Just a quick call or, better yet, a visit where I get a hug, is so looked forward to and appreciated.

“Now she needs you. So where are you?”

Ah yes, many of us “kids” are now senior citizens, fitting that same pattern the writer wrote about. We’re aging; friends and relatives are moving away, some leaving this world. We miss our kids.

Loneliness is everywhere, but  Sundays are the loneliest days of the week. It’s especially present on long, winter days when the temperature dips below zero, and darkness fills our days. It grips people not only on gloomy rainy days and dark nights but even on sunny days when people are supposed to feel happy. What a difference a visit, a letter or a phone call can make in the life of someone feeling so alone. I think if libraries would be open on Sundays, books and being around other folks would help curb the loneliness of many.

Too many of us feel disconnected. We miss the comfort of another person’s presence in our lives, a hug, a check-in phone call, a smile…we need encouragement and comfort from someone who cares. It’s a wonder what a simple smile or hug can do to improve the mood of another person. Smiling at another as you pass on the street doesn’t cost a thing. The reward is immeasurable.   

Kent Haruf had it right when he wrote “Our Souls At Night” which describes in fitting detail the emotions of folks needing others to share their life. To be a part of another’s emotions and dreams is necessary for most of us. Strange how tough that is for folks to admit to others. Sometimes by the simple announcement that you’re lonely, others will respond with a hug and admit their loneliness also. Dispelling loneliness starts with one person, one simple statement admitting your need for companionship.

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.