Far From Finished

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From time to time I get writer’s block and find myself searching furiously for a blog topic. That’s when I surf the web for ideas, and luckily there are a number of sites offering suggestions. I found myself laughing out loud at one post about lists that focused on ten things to do before one dies. It occurred to me that my time for considering such things is perhaps running a bit shorter than say someone in his/her twenties since I will turn seventy on my next birthday. While nobody ever knows when the time for parting this world will actually come, it is more and more likely to happen as the years go by, for none of us is immortal.

I’m well past many of the things that once tempted me like learning to be a downhill skier. My bones would be quite unhappy with the falls and I’d rather sit inside a warm chateau sipping on some hot soup at the top of a mountain than contemplating sliding my way down. The same goes for exploring the Amazon River. Such an adventure sounded thrilling until I saw a program about a trek that almost killed Theodore Roosevelt. After realizing how brutal such an excursion would be, I’ve given up all thought of even trying such a crazy thing. I’ll leave that kind of insanity for the young. My new ideas are far more in line with the limitations that age has imposed on my body.

I still want to travel as much as possible. I haven’t seen Buckingham Palace or the Eiffel Tower or the Vatican, and it seems to me that everyone should enjoy a view of those things at least once. I know that we are all a bit spoiled in this era because most of our ancestors were lucky to get a few hundred miles out of the towns in which they were born. Now such travels are rather commonplace, at least for Americans. I sometimes have to admit that I feel a bit guilty about our abundance and opportunities, but then I still dream of seeing more of the world and think I will be a better person for having done so. Travel opens the mind and the heart.

Of course, I still want my book to get published. To spur me forward my husband showed me a TED talk on planning. It made me realize what I need to do to move forward, and I am feeling more determined than ever. I have only a small bit of editing to do and then I must find someone who will help me design a cover. I already know how I want it to look, I just don’t have the skills to do it myself. After that I intend to send it to a company that will format it properly so that I can easily upload it to Amazon. I have to specify the time that I will do these things and then stick with the plan. I have friends and family who have already successfully published their works, so I need to be less hesitant to consult with them. I’m sure they will be more than glad to share their experiences to help get me going.

There are a number of small things that I think should also be on my list. I hope to live long enough to witness the next total eclipse of the sun. It’s not that far away and this time there will be great viewing right here in Texas. I also want to see the fall colors in Vermont and go to the Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City. Maybe I might catch a showing of Hamilton while I’m in there.

I’d like to take a cooking class and then prepare a special feast for friends and family. My culinary arts are rather basic, but I’m fondly known as “The Bean Queen” and my gumbo might win a prize. I think that baking would be fun or becoming an expert in Italian cuisine. The art and science of food preparation is fascinating to me.

I want to reteach myself Calculus. I once did well with that subject but I was a good fifty years younger the last time I took a such a course. I never taught that subject nor had reason to use it, so it feels as though all memory of it is gone. I once began a review session at a junior college only to develop a bacterial infection after two days that left me hanging over the toilet bowl for over a week. I had to drop the idea of relearning, but never the desire to get back up to speed.

There are entertainers I would love to see in live performances like Yo Yo Ma, Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson, Usher, The Gypsy Kings. As a matter of fact I would love to take advantage of all of the concerts that come to town. I find that even people that I never thought to be so great end up being fabulous. My in-laws once took me to see Andy Williams. I was polite about their generous offer but believed that it would be a snooze, It was not. In fact it was a very memorable evening that demonstrated what makes someone famous. In person Andy was incredibly charismatic.

I’ve seen a sunset over the Grand Canyon but I’d love to observe a sunrise there. It would be more than cool to be in Chaco Canyon for the solstice. I want to hear the bagpipers at Edinburgh Castle and walk through the streets of the towns in Slovakia where my grandparents lived as children. I’d love to be in the audience of Saturday Night Live or Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show or even better would be to see Ellen. I want to reread the great classics and pour over the newest bestsellers. When I become too frail to go too far from home I hope to watch marathons of my all time favorite movies and call friends just to chat.

I suppose that my list is in fact rather endless. There is still so much to do and see. The world is an exciting place that I haven’t explored nearly enough. I’ll write about each of my adventures as they unfold, so stay tuned. I’m far from finished.

Celebrate Difference

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I remember having a discussion about beauty and what is really is. From century to century, place to place the definition of what is pleasing to the eye often changes, and is indeed in the eye of the beholder. That being said, we are continuously bombarded with images designed to show us what is most attractive and how to achieve such distinction on our own by honing our bodies and purchasing products designed to bring out our best. We are made to feel that there is a particular kind of appearance that is lovely, and if we work hard enough we too might recreate ourselves in such likenesses. Billions of dollars are made by the purveyors of the world of beauty.

I do not wish to demean those who offer us the chance of enhancing our natural state. I partake of cosmetics, lotions, exercise, healthy choices, hair products, vitamins perfumes and all sorts of aids. I enjoy how they make me feel and I am happy that that they are available for they surely add a bit of joy to my life, but I worry sometimes that our emphasis on such things also contributes to making many people feel less than. I’m old enough and have enough confidence to find my own skin to be quite comfortable. I am long past the days of worrying that I do not measure up or impress. I don’t mind being seen without makeup, but I my skin enjoys the lotions that I feed it each day so I indulge in pampering myself. Still I worry that there are people both young and old who somehow have been made to feel not so beautiful by a society obsessed with pulchritude.

I love the movie The Greatest Showman because its theme of the variety of loveliness resonates so beautifully in the songs and the scenes. The circus acts are peopled with unique individuals who are beautiful in their own right simply because they are alive. The anthem This Is Me shouts the gloriousness and importance of every life, something that we don’t impress on our young nearly enough. I suppose that if we were to teach our everyone to see that there is no one way of being or appearing we would all be a bit happier.

So many of our problems occur simply because of appearance. The color of skin, texture of hair, height, weight, composition of features often tell us stories before we even have the opportunity of knowing someone. Even when we don’t mean to be that way our biases sometimes cause us to judge. There are those who laugh and make fun of shoppers at Walmart as though their choice of merchants tells us all we need to know of them. We see someone and begin making all sorts of unconscious assumptions about them often without even realizing we are doing so. Our eyes lead us to draw conclusions when instead we should be reserving our thoughts until we have had time to truly understand the person we are seeing.

I think of times when I was guilty of reacting to appearance and later realizing how incredible the person that I judged actually was. When we truly get to know an individual it is amazing how much more beautiful he/she becomes to us. We cease to focus on flaws and instead notice the kindness, the smile, the determination, things that are far more meaningful than looks.

So how do we better appreciate the uniqueness of each of us? I believe that it begins with easing out of our comfort zones. It’s important that we make efforts to be with people unlike ourselves. We must learn more about those who appear to be strange, for in the process we may learn that they are not so different as we may have thought. We all love our children and want the best for them. Much of what motivates us revolves around providing them with better lives. Sometimes we simply need to remind ourselves of that simple fact whenever we react negatively to someone based only on looks.

In times of distress when we are all in the same sinking boat we are more likely to set aside our biases and prejudices. With the common cause of survival we are not so concerned with appearance, particularly with the good soul who is saving us. Why should we have to wait for tragedy to set aside superficialities?

One of my all time favorite photographs is a famous image from the dustbowl era. It shows a woman of indeterminate age who is suffering from the poverty inflicted on her by climate and economic depression. She sits with her hand on her face in a gesture of hopelessness. Her eyes are blank with a faraway look perhaps of fear or remembrance of better times. Her hair hangs lifelessly without over her furrowed brow, and yet she is so beautiful to me. No movie star or royal personage might be as lovely. She seems to represent a part of each of us that fights to be heard and seen and survive. I want to reach out to her and take her hand and tell her that I understand. I want her to know that she is pretty and important and that she will see better days.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be celebrated by the people around us. It’s fun to paint our toes, style our hair, brighten our faces. We just need to always be aware that these things do not represent our souls or those of others. Inside each of us are hopes and dreams and needs. The packaging of them should never prevent us from seeing and realizing them. Look beyond the exterior. Celebrate difference.   

A Hero Indeed

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I grew up on a rather heavy diet of reading, and my first forays into the written word were fairytales followed by stories of the lives of the saints. I admittedly felt that perhaps those icons of religion were more superhuman than I thought possible, and so the ones like St. Theresa and St. Augustine who were flawed like I was became my favorites. Eventually I developed an addiction to biographies of famous people in which I learned of the human frailties of some of my heroes who nonetheless impressed me with their courage. In those critical moments when the world needed them to overcome their weaknesses, they rose to the occasion. Profiles In Courage was like a kind of historical Bible to me that outlined some of the finest stories of humans who were willing to risk everything to do what they believed was right. I suppose that I learned much about character from the many volumes that I devoured, and in the process I began to believe that there are special people among us who have the same imperfections that we all possess but also a moral foundation and strength that separates them from the pack.

The list of my heroes is long and eclectic but one of the traits that all of them shared was a willingness to admit to wrongs. They understood their own imperfections and fought internally to eliminate them, but in their humanness they sometimes lost those battles. Mostly though they were able to follow a path of righteousness no matter how difficult it sometimes became. People like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln, and Gandhi have sometimes been picked apart by people who have concentrated more on their mistakes than on the totality of their dedication to justice and compassion. I prefer instead to view them from an assessment of their willingness to make difficult and even dangerous decisions in order to do what they believed to be right.

Sometimes it seems as though we have a dearth of heroes in today’s world. I admire Pope Francis for his loving candor and I think that Jimmy Carter is one of the kindest people on the planet, but in general there is far too much tribalism and anger. Those who apologize for their missteps are often deemed to be weak or wishy washy. Instead we seem to prefer people who barrel ahead with bravado even when it is obvious that they are wrong. We mistake anger for courage, bullying behaviors for strength. From out of the crowd of puppets and posers a true American hero has emerged, and his name is John McCain.

John McCain is an interesting fellow. He’s from a military family who expected him to serve his country, something that he initially did willingly but with little enthusiasm. It was not until he became a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War that he began to truly understand what it means to be a patriot. His injuries were so extensive that to this very day he is unable to lift his arms to comb his own hair. When offered the opportunity to be freed simply because he was the son of an important military figure, he insisted on following the tradition of going in proper order. After much torture he broke at one point, a fact that haunts him to this day, but on the whole he demonstrated a kind of bravery that few of us would have been able to muster.

Upon his return to a normal life after the war was ended he struggled to know what to do with his life. His marriage foundered, another flaw for which he takes full credit. When he finally found himself he knew that he wanted to be a public servant and began a decades long career as a Senator from Arizona. His military background led him to believe in the necessity of working with his colleagues rather than fighting them. He often disagreed with their ideas, but was willing to find ways to allow everyone to win for the sake of the country. He was admired by his fellow lawmakers regardless of party affiliation and created lasting friendships along the way. He was a principled man who believed that it was indeed possible to stand for certain ideals without ignoring differing points of view and finding common ground.

Twice John McCain decided to make a run for President of the United States. In 2000 he lost his party’s nomination to George W. Bush, but came out on top in 2008. He had wanted to choose Joe Lieberman as his running mate but was talked out of that idea by his handlers, a moment that he still regrets. His campaign never really got off of the ground because he lacked the charisma of his opponent Barrack Obama, and his own party viewed him as being weak, lacking the kind of fighting spirit for which they were searching. He instead gave them fairness even to the point of defending Obama against false accusations. The fact that he was a good man seemed to have little appeal to the electorate.

John McCain has continued to be his own person, even as his party has taken a direction so unlike him. He votes according to his conscience, a trait that is all but lost in the present political arena. He voices his beliefs even when they are unpopular. He refuses to be beholden to the pressures of a base or the leader of any party, and while I may not always agree with his ideas, I am in awe of his conviction. Now he is dying and in his last moments on this earth he continues to show us how we should live. He is truly among the greats in my estimation and I hope that other politicians are taking note of his character because men and women like him are all too lacking.

I would like to think that the madness that is present day Washington D.C. is temporary, and that one day we will come to our senses as a nation and insist that our country be run by men and women who understand the necessity of working together for the welfare of all of us. I would like to believe that collegiality and respect will return. John McCain has demonstrated how to do that throughout his lifetime. Notwithstanding comments from our current president, he is indeed a hero.

A Handshake and A Smile

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I saw a video that featured kindergarten students giving each other a handshake and a smile each morning before the start of class. It made me happy to see them and also to think of how such small gestures have the power of making a very big difference in virtually any situation.

My husband and I recently began attending Sunday mass at Mary Queen Catholic Church. Mike decided that he wanted to go there because a group of ladies there made him a prayer quilt shortly after his stroke. They sent the lovely item with a promise to pray for him regularly even though they had never before met him. He was quite touched by their kindness and insisted that he wanted to be part of a place that demonstrated so much caring love. Thus we drive a rather good distance each week to be part of that community. Amazingly the inviting attitude is continually apparent there. From the moment that we walk through the door we are greeted by smiling parishioners and priests who open doors for us and make us feel very welcome. It is a form of thoughtfulness that warms our hearts and brings us back again and again. As humans we are as attracted to love as tiny creatures are to light.

The schools where I most enjoyed working emphasized the same kind of attention to people as those kindergartners and my church. Teachers were in the hallways during passing periods greeting students as they walked to class and saying hello to those entering their rooms. It set a positive tone that made virtually everyone feel as though they were part of something quite special, and it didn’t require any extra time or much more effort to do so. In fact it felt so good that it became something that brightened everyone’s days.

One of the principals with whom I worked asked the faculty to catch students doing something good. It was a different take on vigilance that allowed us to notice the wonderful things happening in our school. We complimented the students who were being extraordinarily kind and gave their names to the principal who mentioned them at the end of each day and called them to the office for congratulations. We soon found that there was far more of a spirit of generosity taking place inside our school than we had ever imagined. By focusing on what our students were doing right we changed everyone’s attitudes. Going to the office was not just for getting into trouble any longer, and being nice was as important as making good grades. The environment became happier and happier simply because we chose to hunt for the best rather than the worst.

Watching the news might lead us to believe that our society is doomed and that we are surrounded by hateful reprobates. In truth there are some people who for whatever reason are inconsiderate and even criminal, but time and again the evidence points to a society that is mostly composed of truly wonderful folks whose desire is to live peacefully and happily with one another. Perhaps all we need to make that wish more likely to come true is to make just a bit more of an effort.

I am shy by nature. I have to psyche myself whenever I enter a place where I know very few people. I’ve trained myself to make the first moves toward friendship when needed, but there is noting quite like having someone else offer a hand and a smile before I do. I instantly feel better about the situation, and I suppose that almost anyone would. I return to stores with friendly sales people and make note of those with surly employees. Who after all wants to feel as though they are unwanted?

Children often naturally form groups with those that make them feel the most comfortable. When a new person arrives they may or may not extend a hand of friendship unless they have seen that kind of behavior being modeled. Being the new kid at school can be traumatic if there is not a warm environment. I’ve been there before and it is a horrible feeling. I’ve also been the recipient of efforts to make me feel wanted, and each time that happens I feel a sense of relief. Sometimes it takes practice to teach people the art of inclusion.

I wonder how many acts of violence might be thwarted by a handshake and a smile? Is it possible to change the trajectory of an encounter if the atmosphere is open and welcoming? I suspect that in most cases friendliness is a magical healer.

To this very day I see the faces of people who made me feel good about myself in times when I was anxious. It took so very little for them to quell the fears that were welling in my heart. They turned difficult times into memorable ones and sometimes even led to long time friendships. I seen Zerin asking me to sit with her on my first day at a new school. I recall Flo’s beautiful smile on the occasion of our meeting. I think of Virginia who stilled the tears that were threatening to fall from my eyes because of my nerves. I still smile when I think of Johnny complimenting a birthday dress on my sixteenth birthday when I felt so gawky and unsure of myself. These sweet individuals probably had little idea how calming there actions were at a time when I was worried and feeling not quite myself.

I’d love to see all schools encouraging a routine of shaking hands, smiling and reaching out to everyone, especially anyone who appears to be clinging to the shadows. Kindness should be as much a part of each day as the lessons. If we began when our kids are very young and continue such expectations for all of their lives we might begin to see far less ugliness. It’s certainly worth a try.

A Tortured Mind

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My mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder by multiple doctors. There was no cure for her disease, but there were pharmaceutical treatments that worked for a time and then invariably had to be adjusted. She faced a lifetime of dealing with a chronic illness that required both patience and vigilance, which was not always easy because there were moments when she was not a pleasant person at all. In those instances she was unable to sleep, and lost track of time. She was filled with paranoid ideas and conspiracy theories that she felt compelled to share in the middle of the night. Her explosions of emotion and fear sometimes resulted in vile utterances that were difficult to hear. My brothers and I not only had to be forceful in providing her with the care that she needed, but had to worry about what she might do or say to get herself into a difficult situation with strangers who might be frightened by her aggressive and strange behavior. It was a battle that we fought for her for well over forty years.

I was thinking of my mom and the problems associated with her mental illness when the firestorm over Roseanne Barr erupted last week. The egregious and racist nature of Ms. Barr’s tweet about Valerie Jarret left me loathing her even more than I already did. I think I only watched her show one time back when it was the original series. I loved John Goodman, but I was unable to identify with the crudity of Roseanne. In other words I was not a fan. Still, I knew many people who loved the show and I had to admit that she had a certain talent even if I did not appreciate it. “To each his own” was my reaction to her fame and popularity while I generally ignored her and knew little about her.

When she and her former cast returned for a reboot of the sitcom I found myself wondering why we have so little originality these days that we keep returning to old ideas. Perhaps it is a longing for a quieter past, a time before 9/11, wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the civil war of words and political ideas that is so prevalent today. I wasn’t sure what the rationale might be, but I saw no harm in giving a particular segment of the audience the kind of comedy that they wanted while I watched The Middle.

Then came the Roseanne firestorm after her rambling ugly tweets resulted in her firing by ABC. To be clear the First Amendment protects her from punishment by the government, but not from repercussions at work. In fact, all of us would do well to understand that our public statements can and often will be seen as a reflection on our employers who have every right to let us go if they feel that we have gone too far. I can’t imagine anyone believing that Ms. Barr did not go too far. As an educator I recall instances when we meted out severe punishments including expulsion to students who voiced similar racist comments. There are certain lines over which none of us should ever cross, and if we do we must expect to pay the consequences.

By her own admission Roseanne Barr suffers from bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses. When she attempted to excuse her horrible tweets by noting that it was the middle of the night and she had taken Ambian I found myself wondering if she was in the throes of a manic episode. It was probably not her sleep aid that caused her rants, but rather her disease and the fact that it does not allow her to sleep the way she needs causes her to lose all caution with regard to what she says and does.

My mother once described bipolar disorder as an illness that caused her to say and do mean things when she didn’t want to do. She explained that she felt a compulsion to strike out at people that she was unable to control even when she tried. I know that I was the victim of her hurtful behavior many times over, but I understood what was causing the disturbances. People outside of the family simply found themselves wounded to the point of wanting to avoid her all all costs.

I in no way defend Rosanne Barr. I find her to be a foul mouthed and hateful person. Even if her tweet was indeed intended to be a joke it was far too ugly to be humorous. Her thoughts rarely change, so I believe that the essence of what she believes is contained in them, and that spirit is highly toxic. My mother was truly like two different people. When she was well everything about her was delightful and loving. It was only when she was sick that a kind of darkness prompted by fears came forth. On the whole she was a good person. I can’t say the same about Ms. Barr who seems to take delight in putdowns and shaming no matter what the situation.

An even more ridiculous argument in Roseanne’s favor is to point to others who are just as guilty of horrific comments and note that they have not been fired. That is akin to saying that just because someone else hasn’t been called to task for bad behavior, nobody should be. It is a circular defense that simply does not fly.

Our entire society is a bit sick right now. We need to be honest with ourselves and step back a bit before we find ourselves up against a wall from which there is no retreat. In many ways we have lost our national honor and are all too often guilty of perpetrating disgusting behaviors by our silence and even misguided support of acts and utterances that we know to be wrong. If we do not get a grip on this situation it will overtake us, for surely we are being manipulated by powerful forces whose only goal is to have power.

I actually feel sad for Roseanne Barr even though I find her to be despicable. I think that she is crying for help and nobody is really listening. I hope that those who love her will see the signs of her tortured mind and get her the relief that she needs. That will require a dose of kindness and medical attention. Hopefully her horrific pain won’t just be ignored, and I pray that we will not further divide ourselves by foolishly agreeing with the wanderings of her very sick and tortured mind.