I think I’m becoming my mother

Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter

(4/2019) This revelation is somewhat of a shock for a 46-year-old to discern, but really, only somewhat. My mom’s pretty cool. Both of my parents are, actually.

The thing is, when we were kids, my mom was always the talker. She talked to anyone. We would stand an extra ten or fifteen minutes in line at any store while she just chatted away. As kids we were typically at the gumball machine dispenser either rolling our eyes or waiting for a quarter. (Normally it was the quarter.)

My siblings and I would always joke about mom and her "gift of gab."

And now I realize I have inherited it.

I can yap up a storm with the best of them. I have been known to talk to just about anyone about almost anything. I can get chatty with the person who hands me a coffee at the McDonald’s drive-thru or the waitress who brings me a pile of pasta at my favorite restaurant.

Normally, though, the conversation has to do with animals.

I’ve got my groups of people who know, not only where I work, but that I’m a cat mama, so inevitably, when I stop by certain places, I’ll get into conversations about how my babies are doing and how their babies are doing and we’ll pull out our phones and…yeah.

I’m my mom.

One of the best conversations I’ve had in a while came when I spoke to the AARP group in Chambersburg recently. I usually stop by in March every year to give an update about the shelter and just generally have fun with an awesome group of animal-lovers.

These folks are a total hoot and absolute proof that joy and entertainment can continue throughout life. They love to laugh and joke and carry on, but most importantly, they love animals.

I brought a little beagle/Jack Russell mix with me named Lola who is the dearest little girl. She sat right next to me while I talked and actually appeared to listen to the stories I told. She came to the shelter because her human mom and dad were getting a divorce. Lola and her two pups didn’t work out in the home anymore, so they came to us for a second chance. Everyone just loved her.

The AARP was also celebrating the birthday of a member who is 95 years young. That’s exactly how she was described. Esther is quite a pistol. She’s had a stroke, but you sure couldn’t tell. She’s keeping track of the books for the AARP and when they presented her with a cake, she said, "The day I was born there was a blizzard. The doctor couldn’t make it to the house, so my grandmother had to deliver me. She must have done something right, ‘cause I’m still here!"

My pop will appreciate this one. I believe she said she was born in Mercersburg, Pa., my dad’s old stomping grounds. Ahh, the stories he’s got from Mercersburg, but that’s a topic for another column.

Now, I’m going to ask you to imagine Esther’s journey into this world. It’s 1924 in Franklin County, and a woman is delivering a baby in a winter storm. Just think about it – a small town, no cell phones, possibly no indoor plumbing, electricity or modern appliances. And there’s a baby on the way. For those of us used to modern conveniences, that’s a seriously scary concept.

And while you’re thinking, I’m telling you, right now – you, the person reading this article – talk to members of the greatest generation and anyone who came before them. Listen to their stories because that is how we remember history and the history around us is so incredibly rich. Life wasn’t always like it is today with our technology and social media and our instantaneous communication. It’s important to remember that and the people who lived it.

We can learn so very many valuable lessons from the people who came from a slower time, a time abundant with family and a deep understanding of life the way it could be lived. There was very little electronic distraction during that time and I worry that the younger generation may never truly appreciate what can be discovered from those who came before.

At any rate, I digress. I told the AARP stories of the animals at the shelter, including Katniss, our escape-artist cat who can get herself out of offices as well as little Tucker Lee, a terrier who was dropped off in our outside run one evening because he didn’t get along with the new baby.

At the end of the meeting, we had refreshments and all got a chance to chat. That’s when a whole lot of people came up to me to meet little Lola and talk about their own animals. I heard stories from immediate, emergency surgery to help a dachshund be able to walk again, to a daughter who takes in every stray she sees, to a little pup who was saved from a puppy mill.

As we talked, everyone reminded me of donations they had in their cars and little Lola maybe had a sugar cookie – don’t tell anyone at the shelter, though, it was supposed to be a little secret between me, Lola and the AARP.

The group managed to collect more than $200 for the shelter as well as a whole van-load of supplies, but that’s not all they gave me.

I learned something from my time spent with the AARP. It’s the moments when I stop for a minute, turn my focus to exactly where I am – don’t think about my to-do list or how many hours I have left in the day to get everything done – that I really enjoy my life helping animals. The group gave me a chance to really listen to the stories from other people and that was incredibly refreshing and calming and peaceful.

It’s important to remember when we get caught up in other people’s issues or drama or life problems that sometimes we need to take a break and concentrate on the significant parts of life – sharing thoughts and ideas with like-minded folks about what means the most to us.

I can’t help but wonder if that might be what my mother has been doing all her life by striking up conversations wherever she goes. Perhaps it was something she’s known all along and was trying to impart to her kids, even when we were little.

And isn’t that a serious revelation? I’m going to have to share that one with my siblings for sure…

*****

Jennifer Vanderau is the Director of Communications for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter in Chambersburg, Pa., and can be reached at cvasoc@innernet.net. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at (717) 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org.