by Steve Lough — candidate for SC’s 5th District Democratic Primary, June 12, 2018
Mom’s Life
She was the Valedictorian of her Pendleton, Oregon high school class, but there was no money for college, so she went to work at the Hanford Nuclear Plant as a typist. She was one of a bunch of young women there, living in dorms, doing support work for the Manhattan Project to build the first Atomic Bomb for WWII.
That job eventually got her to Camden, SC where DuPont had just built a new orlon, and others, fiber plant. She met my dad, a carpenters foreman, and they had two boys. Six years later, I was conceived and when she was six months pregnant, my dad, who loved unfiltered Lucky Strikes, had his 3rd heart attack and died.
Trust Women
Dr. West, her doctor, told her in confidence, “Susie, if you think having another child is too much for you, if you think it will bring the whole ship down, we can take care it for you.” This was in 1965, well before Roe. My mom told me this story when I was 21. She said having the power of making that decision for herself and her life gave her strength during all the tough times she would face later in life. (this is a common theme in Right To Die states I have read. 90-something % of people who are prescribed fatal doses of medication at the end of life never take the meds, but having the choice, if the pain gets unbearable, helps people cope)
So she raised the three of us on her own, going back to work for the school system as a Home School Visitor. The native SC women did not want this assignment because it involved going to poor, and in some cases minority, households to deliver shoes and clothes and check on the kids who were not showing up for school. So my mom, from Oregon, an outsider, was given the job nobody else wanted. (you can have all the money in the world, but if you’re not born here in SC and haven’t always lived here, you are an outsider. nobody likes to talk about this stuff, but I don’t care)
Mom grew to love her job. She often told me “Helping other people is the best thing you can do in life. Always remember that.” However, when she asked for a raise, a year or two in, she was threatened with her job. Her boss said “Susie, you’re lucky to even have this job. You don’t have a college degree!”
Mom was militant about two things: 1. You will NOT smoke cigarettes, and 2. You WILL get a college degree.
Doctor, Lawyer, Circus Clown
We listened to her. None of us smoke cigarettes, and we all graduated from college. The oldest became a pharmacist, then a doctor at South Carolina Med; the next oldest went to Dartmouth then Columbia Law, and I followed that brother to Dartmouth. It was a financial nightmare for Mom. She started delivering newspapers, the State and Charlotte Observer, getting up at 3am, finishing her routes, then going to work a full day at the school system. I helped out from time to time with the papers, delivering, talking to people on the phone when the papers were late, rolling quarters from the paper boxes, etc. She told us “Your job is to go to school!” Most of the financial strain, though, was from the South Carolina school debt. Dartmouth College gave us so much financial aid that it was cheaper for me to go there than USC. Seems crazy, huh? I did a work-study job all four years, washing dishes for the rich kids and building sets for the theater department, but still.
Sophomore year I met a woman juggling on the Green and was applying to Ringling Clown College. Eureka! Mom took me to the circus as a kid, but I never knew it was a job! So I called home and told her that I was going to quit Dartmouth and join the circus! Luckily, I was out of her reach physically because she sounded pretty mad. “You have two years left. After that, you can do whatever the hell you want, but you’re going to get that degree.” We made a deal. I felt bad for making her so mad, so I finished up my Anthropology degree and graduated. Mom was so happy.
Although she didn’t understand the whole Clown College thing, since I had a “real” degree, she gave me her blessing and even brought her best friend, Betty Holland (wife of then SC State Sen. Don Holland) to my Clown College graduation.
I joined the circus, did a year, worked in Seattle for a year, being a bellman at the Alexis Hotel on 1st Ave. then a maintenance man at the new Woodmark Hotel in Kirkland. There I got a call to go to Japan with a group of Ringling clowns for a 9 month contract. Seven years later, my new wife and I moved back to Camden and lived with Mom to figure out what was next. Mom loved Elizabeth. Taught her a bunch of sewing techniques, different recipes, and sent word back to Elizabeth’s mom in Japan how happy she was to spend time with Elizabeth. That was one of the best years in all of our lives. Planted cherry trees, put up bluebird houses and watched the chicks, home-made meals every night, and talked about everything under the sun. We practiced our music and clown skills and trained the two Jack Russells we had bought the last year in Japan from a wonderful lady in Lugoff, SC.
Back To Ringling Bros.
When it was time for a new circus season, I contacted my old friend from the circus, Tim Holst, and told him my Japan Clown College educated wife and I, and our two dogs, needed work. He asked if the dogs were trained...I said “Yes” and he offered us a contract. Everything was great, we packed up and got a U-Haul, and planned our trip to Washington DC to join the Blue Unit.
As we said goodbye at the kitchen door, Mom broke down sobbing and crying. I broke down too. Both of us realized this could be the last time we saw each other. Mom had fallen a couple times in the house in front of me, but she told me not to worry, that I needed to get back to the circus.
The Beginning of the End
About a year and 6 months later, I got a message from my oldest brother that mom had fallen, she was in surgery and might not make it. I flew home and after a few nervous days in intensive care, she survived, but unfortunately had to have an ostomy procedure. The doctor brother took charge and she ended up in an assisted care facility near his house. She was recovering for awhile, then they found a meningioma after she had trouble speaking. They pumped her full of steroids, the tumor shrank, they scheduled the surgery, and she called me to say goodbye just in case.
The surgery went well, she could talk again, but she told me she didn’t want to die in a nursing home. I promised her that would not happen. She said I was her Guardian Angel. I called my brother to check in on her real condition. A month after the surgery, he told me she was starting to get blood clots in her legs, so the future wasn’t looking very good.
We made sure all of our spots in the show were covered by the other clowns, we rented a U-Haul and about 3 days after that last phone call, we quit the show and drove out of the train yard in Cleveland, OH.
The End
We went straight to see Mom when we arrived and I told her I was here to get her out of this place. There was only one problem. According to Medicare rules (I think it was) she had to stay in the Assisted Living facility for a certain number of days after her surgery to recover. I told her that I needed time to learn how to take care of her to make it more palatable. The CNAs and nurses were very kind (although it was obvious they were underpaid and overworked) and I basically shadowed them for a few weeks to learn about medications, giving insulin shots, changing a colostomy bag, how to treat bedsores (the heels are the worst for sores), do the oxygen line, how to move a patient into and out of a bed and a wheelchair, and how to bathe a patient and change the sheets.
We started bringing the dogs in to see mom (she loved that) and do some tricks, and the found out we were clowns, so they asked me to be Santa for all the residents. It was difficult emotionally. You could tell who never got a single visit...and how hard those nurses and CNAs worked.
The CNAs jokingly offered me a job there, but I said I only had one patient. As the date got close for Mom’s departure, my brother told me that I had to be ready to take care of Mom for who knows how long...it could be a year or two, nobody knows for sure. I had to find a decent job, so I finally used that college degree that mom insisted on and enrolled in school to get a Paralegal Certificate.
I started school just a few days before mom’s release date. I had demonstrated all the care taking skills and mom was making progress. It was glorious saying goodbye to all the staff, nurses, doctors, etc. I wheeled mom out and put her in the car and we drove home.
As we arrived in Camden, Mom told me to pull into the Gate Station there on the corner. She said “Would you mind getting me a pack of Merit 100’s?” I knew my brother would be furious, but you know what? I didn’t give a damn. If that’s what she wanted, a little control over her life, a little something bad for you, fine by me. I got the pack, pulled one out and lit it for her in the car, and she took a couple small drags. “It doesn’t taste the same. I don’t want to finish this.” she said. She looked kind of sad about that.
After we got home, she called some people on the phone and we settled into a routine, my wife and I, taking care of her while I went to paralegal school in Columbia. She seemed to be relieved to be at home and I noticed kind of a “letting go” for lack of a better word. The next door neighbor was a hospice nurse and he checked in. He said from what he had seen, she was kind of letting go...sleeping more...not fighting to live…
About three weeks after we got her home, she died, peacefully in her bed, at home. I felt a sense of relief, that her final difficult struggles were over and now she could rest.
When I look back over her life, the things that made it tough for her, no college money, unequal pay, bad bosses, a woman’s right to choose her own destiny, and our bizarrely complicated healthcare system...I want to do something about those things. I want to help people like my mom and my dad, who couldn’t get health insurance because of his heart attacks. Life is tough enough without the extra cruelty of people profiting from other peoples’ suffering.
I’m going to do whatever an educated clown can do to make it right. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. That’s why I, Steve Lough, am running for the SC 5th Congressional District seat.