Book Review: The Forgotten Girls A memoir of Friendship & lost Promise in Rural America

                                            Mountain Deer in western NC

I am reading a fascinating book called The Forgotten Girls: A Memoir of Friendship & Lost Promise in Rural America .  The author, Monica Potts, goes back to her small, mostly White, rural community in the Ozarks to try to understand why so many girls in these communities across this nation. 

Both Monica and her best friend, Darci, are promising young teens in Clinton, Arkansas. 

Monica ears a scholarship to an out-of-state school. Darci chooses to party and chase boys in high school and gets stuck in their rural hometown. 

This is a story that I saw get played out many times while growing up in rural northern Appalachia. I am only halfway through the book because it is so damn sad. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree.

Both Monica and Darci came from poor families. My family was solidly middle-class, but I grew up around such rural poverty as theirs. 

Did I experience rural poverty firsthand? Thankfully the answer to that is NO. 

However, I DID see the sort of poverty that the author discusses in this book. Let me tell you about my lab partner: I'll call her Patty. 

Patty and I met in high school. We took many of the same classes but ran in completely different social circles. We spent a year dissecting various preserved critters in Anatomy and Physiology during our senior year, but never became friends. 

Her friends considered me " uppity". 

My social group was baffled that I'd even want to be friends with someone like Patty. 

I do not know what became of my bright lab partner. I do remember her telling me that she'd be the first in her family to attend a four-year college and that she wanted to study nursing. 

I hope she got out and stayed away. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree. 

I got out, and I am forever grateful that my neurodivergent, creative hippie chick self had the opportunity to follow my parents to Northwest Florida. 

Please understand that I love the folks with whom I'd grown up. Most of them are hard-working, good people. Yet to be honest, I never " fit in" there. 

I was a shy and awkward teen. No one would have considered me " boy crazy", and I surely was NOT popular. I honestly did not care about dating and the last thing I thought about when I was in high school was settling down into marriage and motherhood at an early age. 

Although I could have been a better student, I knew my intelligence would be my ticket away from that community that always felt foreign to me-- even though that was where I'd lived for my first twenty-two years of life. 

I lived there, but it always felt like I did not belong-- and could not wait to get the hell out. 

Rural America is great for some people, but not for me. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 
 

Words fail sometimes, but Music always speaks

 

                                            Piano 

As an empathic person, I pick up a lot from other people. Their energy tells me things that words either cannot or will not. 

My priest says that this trait is a gift, but I am not quite sure that I believe her. 

This is why I am grateful to be taking piano lessons at middle-age. Music has opened up a whole new avenue for me to express some " big feelings", that do not involve other people. 

Life is tough. As our associate priest reminded us on Sunday: "God has us". As a person of faith, I know this to be true. After over 40 years of life, I've seen enough of God's goodness to be certain that there IS a " rhyme and reason" for the hard stuff life seems to throw at us regularly. 

Personally, my life has been fairly smooth as of late. Brian and I just returned home from a wonderful short trip to New Orleans. I'm FINALLY getting some real answers and a treatment plan for my chronic nerve pain in my back. Brian is doing well, and so are my parents. 

Yet I have other loved ones who are facing some BIG challenges right now. For reasons of confidentiality-- I cannot talk about these matters {and anyway, the stories are not mine to tell} 

For we empathic " feelers-- I am a classic Myers-Briggs INFJ-- it is hard to carry others' loads. I've always been a creative person, so painting, drawing and now MUSIC  helps me cope with the big feelings. 

Music especially helps me say what words often fail to convey. 

This is why arts education-- especially music-- is so important. 

Do I wish I'd taken music lessons as a child. Of course! But looking back, I probably was not ready {lacking the ability to follow through affected me as a child much more than as an adult. } I am grateful to have a healthy way to cope with life's challenges that also adds much beauty to my life. 

Where words fail, music speaks.

Hans Christian Andersen

Shalom,

Sarahbeth McCarren

My name is Sarahbeth .

 

                                      

In the Christian calendar, we celebrated Christ's transfiguration. In today's Gospel, His friends got a peek into who He is-- not just their rabbi and friend, but also Emanual-- God- { literally}-With-Us

Hi world. My parents named me Sarah Elizabeth McCarren. There is nothing wrong with this name.  But, at this mid-life stage I feel more like a Sarahbeth.  

My name, and what I really prefer to be called, is Sarahbeth. 

Of course, I'll still retain my legal, name, as I don't dislike it. {plus, changing one's legal name is a real pain in the ass} 

I'll still answer to " Sarah" . 

But please, try to call me Sarahbeth 

Names are important. As I've already stated, there is nothing wrong with the name that is on all my identification. It is a good, solid, classic name. 

Yet at this point in my life, I feel like the nickname that my husband bestowed upon me years ago " fits" the person that I'm becoming now. 

Sarah Elizabeth= Sarahbeth. It is not difficult. 

In the last few years, I've grown and changed a lot. Boundaries are in place, and I've developed a better sense of who I am and what I am put on Earth to do. 

I am Sarahbeth. 

Amen

Transfiguration Sunday, 2023

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Sentencing of the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooter

 

                                             My steel-tongue drum, which I had been eyeing every week that I go to the music store for my lesson. I brought it home to add to my music arsenal. Drumming is healing, and the drums {and drum circles} are not the sole copyright of any culture. Full stop. 

It has been a weird couple of days for me.

Not only has my pain level/ leg weakness been high {I thankfully get the nerve block on Monday} , but the fate of the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooter has been determined. A jury of Pennsylvania citizens gave him the death penalty. 

I am grateful and relieved. 

There is also some guilt associated with this gratitude. After all, my normal {and lifelong} stance on capital punishment is one that is firmly against state-sanctioned murder. As a follower of Jesus Christ, I do not usually subscribe to the Old Testament. " An eye for an eye" version of justice. State-sanctioned murder will not bring back the dead. 

I still stand by my belief that capital punishment does nothing to deter violent crimes. I live in Florida, which is a state that LOVES to let the government murder people on behalf of its citizens. Unlike Florida, Pennsylvania does not put " the needle" on juries' tables. 

For this case, Pennsylvania chose to use "The Needle", if the jury agreed that is appropriate. 

A jury concurred and the monster who killed 11 Innocent people for simply being Jews is basically a dead man walking. 

I hope he gets The Needle. 

I'll say it again: I hope he gets The Needle. 

For the past few years, Jewish Americans have seen an uptick in antisemitism.

His crime took place in a Pittsburgh neighborhood that I know and love. Being from the Pittsburgh area, I know Squirrel Hill and its surrounding neighborhoods well. I've safely walked those streets in search of a bagel shop. I have a great-uncle and great-aunt who live there. 

While I am Christian by faith, I am Jewish by birth. 

As a Christian, I know state-sanctioned murder is not okay. After all, our Teacher}, Savior, and Brother was gruesomely murdered by the State in which He lived. 

Yet the Pittsburgh Synagogue massacre rocked Jewish-Americans everywhere-- but especially in the city that I love. 

Am I conflicted? Yes, I am. In my over 4 decades of life, never have I supported capital punishment. Frankly, I still do not support this barbaric practice.  

But I hope that murderous Naz! lies in fear as he is murdered.

My hope is that this will serve as a lesson to anyone who has the hatred enough to murder innocent people just because of who G-d created them to be. 

Forgive me, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, for the anger in my heart. I know that " an eye for an eye" makes everyone everywhere unable to see. Use me as an instrument of Your peace and show me ways that I can be that bridge, connecting people who hate Jews to a new, loving way of viewing their neighbors. In Your Son's Name... Amen. 

Sarah Beth McCarren 

 

Anne

                                            

Anne Elizabeth McNallen McCarren. 

Today is all about honoring a woman who has made a BIG impact on my life. She died during COVID, but she lived over 90 years well. She was a child of God, a nurse, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a great-grandmother and a friend. 

She was tiny in stature but huge in heart. 

She, along with my grandfather, raised six kids, including my dad. 

She worked full-time as a nurse at Butler {Pennsylvania} Hospital. As

an Emergency Room nurse, she was on the frontlines of helping people. She understood that humans are put on earth to serve others, and that we each are called to a vocation. Grandma's vocation was than of a nurse. She retired from the hospital but remained a nurse. 

She loved Pittsburgh sports. I remember being at her house and always seeing some Pittsburgh sports team on the TV. Grandma had a special affinity for baseball and the Pittsburgh Pirates. 

She adored my spouse. 

Grandma knew who she was and her faith in the Triune God was strong. It was with her that I first visited a Christian church {Roman Catholic} When I made the choice to accept Jesus and get baptized, she was so proud of me. 

She had some strong opinions and did not shy away from expressing such opinions.  I remember some wonderful, spirited conversations with her over the phone. We consoled each other in 2016 regarding a certain "Buffoon's" antics on the national and world stage.  #IYKYK .  

By her example, Grandma taught me to be firm in my moral beliefs and to stand up for what I KNOW is right. 

Sometimes when I open my mouth, Grandma Anne's words come out. I learned my strength and fortitude from her. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday Grandma Anne. I give thanks for you today and every day. 

In the Name of the Triune God...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

        

Journalling

                              Butterflies, to me, are symbols of resurrection & transformation. Photo by Sarah Beth. 

I'm in therapy-- again. 

This therapist is REALLY good. I've only been working with her for a couple months, and already I see some BIG progress. 

She has me keeping a pen-and-paper journal. As someone who has been a writer since she could hold a fat pencil in her hand, I've kept journals. As a matter of fact, I credit the journals-- and the skilled therapists-- got me through a turbulent adolescence that was horrible mostly due to the fact that I score high on the neurodivergence scale. 

I did not talk much at all. I wrote. 

However, as I did my best to continue this practice into adulthood, I admit that it was an epic failure.  Well-intentioned, I would buy pretty hardback journals with the intent of writing something every day. 

 I'm someone who can remember in detail, how to get to a place that she'd been to only once before but fails miserably at keeping track of her phone. Yep, I am the classic ' Absent-Minded Professor" Archetype. 

I suck at commitments, so I sucked at journalling. 

However Great Therapist suggested that I do the following: 

1. Keep track of gratitude by writing down at least three things for which I am grateful each evening. 

    Lately it has been " I am grateful for air conditioning." 

 2. Write letters to people to tell them things that are on my heart, but I cannot {yet, if ever} say out loud. 

   This is also very helpful, as I am processing the sudden death of a beloved man who was like the older brother I'd always wanted. 

   I've also written some shitty poetry here that, thank God will never see the light of day. 

3. Use the journal as a Brain Dump. 

    Sometimes stuff just needs to get out of my head and onto the poor unsuspecting paper. 

Am I the most faithful person regarding spending time with my journal every day? Meh. 

Am I better with keeping the journal than I was in my teens and 20's? Yes! 

Today I am grateful for the gift of wordsmithing. 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

   

Therapy

 Hi .. My name is Sarah Beth, and I am currently in therapy. 

I'll say that again. I am in therapy. 

To be honest, due to a lot of life occurrences, I've been in and out of talk therapy for a big portion of my life. I'm NOT ashamed to admit that I need professional help-- and I am of the opinion that no one should feel shame about seeking help. 

Life sucks sometimes, and there are trained people who can objectively give us tools with which to cope with life's suckitude. 

Sadly, I used to feel the stigma attached with getting professional help for coping with life. My parents used to pick me up from school for " a doctor's appointment that was really for my weekly visit with my analyst. 

Hush hush hush. 

Thankfully, in the 2020's most people are enlightened enough to understand that talk therapy really can be part of a comprehensive health-care plan for some people. 

Some people need therapy for a short time-- or for a specific issue. 

Others, like me, need some professional guidance on how to navigate a scary world of scary people who do not understand neurodiverse brains. Face it: people are complex and can be cruel and sometimes it helps to have that unattached ear and voice to help navigate being human in a soul-crushing would of humans. 

I've learned that not all therapists are a good " fit" for each client. My current analyst is amazing: I've only been working with her for a month, and I can see the benefits. However, my last therapist did not have the full set of tools to help me. I am sure he is a good guy who really does want to help people, but his skills and my needs did not align. 

Talk therapy is healthcare. 

Namaste, y'all...

Sarah Beth McCarren