Escaping From Reality

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I’ve been watching the Academy Awards since the program was hosted by Bob Hope and it played out in black on white on my family’s tiny television screen. I suppose that I’ve always been a bit star struck. Viewing movies is a favorite past time. I’ve seen the industry evolve to the point that I am now able to catch my favorite flicks in the comfort of my home while vegging in my pajamas. I have the big screen, the blockbuster sound, and the popcorn at my finger tips. Still, I enjoy catching a picture at a movie theater now and then, although it has become a far more expensive habit than it was when I was able to go to the Reveille theater for a grand total of twenty five cents when I was still a child. If I managed to bring along another quarter or so I was able to set myself up with some snacks as well. Now even with the senior discount and a small box of popcorn I’ve killed a ten dollar bill. The increasing cost gives me incentive to be patient until the DVDs and streaming come out for any major picture. I religiously check On Demand each Tuesday to see what is new, and now see most movies months after they premiere.

This year I had an engagement on Oscar night so I recorded the event instead of watching it live. It turned out to be the best idea ever. With my remote ever at the ready I buzzed past long winded introductions and interminable acceptance speeches. I avoided political ovations and commercials. It was smooth sailing from one award to another and I have to say it was definitely the best Academy Awards night of my life. I didn’t miss having a host to bore me with weak jokes and aborted efforts to entertain. I really do not watch the ceremonies for anything other than seeing the stars and hearing the results. Most of the time I’m perfectly satisfied with the results, but I don’t like it when the winners use their moment as a platform to beat a political drum, a common occurrence in the past few years that has been draining the joy out of the occasion.

I’m a fan of fashion, so I truly find great pleasure in seeing all of the lovely creations from the designers. This year’s offerings were classically beautiful and flattering which I prefer over outrageous outfits like the camouflage suit with walking shorts that John Legend chose to sport. Perhaps it was the white socks that ruined the effect, but it just left me wondering what he was thinking. He’s such a talented and handsome man that he doesn’t need gimmicks to catch people’s attention. If his pants had been normal length he might have looked dashing rather than like someone auditioning for a children’s show. Other than that, everyone was absolutely gorgeous.

I was particularly happy that Regina King won a Best Supporting Actress award. I think that she is one of the best actors on the planet. She brings something quite special to every role that she plays and I hope that we see much more of her. The musical performance with Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga was my favorite moment of the evening. The chemistry between the two of them was palatable, and it was a real life moment of a true star being revealed to the world. Lady Gaga’s talent is almost immeasurable and I suspect that before she is finished she will have become a Hollywood legend in the likeness of the true greats.

I wasn’t sure which movie would be chosen as the Best Picture. There were a number of good and likely candidates, some that were fun, some thought provoking, and one that was a work of art in the tradition of a Fellini movie. I suppose that I would have been happy with any choice but I was rooting for Black Panther, Bohemian Rhapsody, or Roma. I personally believe that Roma will be studied by film students for years to come. It was a mesmerizing glance into a time and place that was so personal that I thought about the story and the characters for days after I viewed the film. I found myself wanting to rewind and unravel the images and I needed to know more about the history of the era. The fact that the actors were unknown to me made the story even more moving. Nonetheless, I understand that the average moviegoer might find the pacing too slow and the need to glance back and forth between the images and the captions a bit too demanding. Still, taking the time to just sit back and let the beauty of Roma flow into the heart and mind is worth it.

I plan to eventually catch all of the nominated and winning movies that I have not yet seen. Some Tuesday in the near future they will no doubt show up for rent. I might even discover some new favorites as I decide which actors, directors and pictures I really like. I never cease to be taken by the profound talent of Glen Close. I would be willing to watch her in a commercial. The fact that she is such an advocate for those who endure mental illnesses only strengthens my admiration for her. She is a winner in my mind even when she doesn’t take the golden boy home.

I plan to tune in to the awards ceremony again next year, but with my secret method of catching the festivities an hour or so after real time. Never again will I endure the babbling and the bad attempts at humor. I’ve found the key to sheer enjoyment and I won’t let it go. I hope that the producers of the program now realize that they don’t need a host and continue that trend. I hope they hear us clamoring for less talk and more viewing of the actual performances that landed nominations. I pray that they understand just how much we all enjoyed the amazing opening of this year’s ceremony with Queen and Adam Lambert that was breathtaking and way more entertaining than any of the skits in previous years. I hope the stars understand that we love them but recoil when they start to preach.

The relationship between the audience and the movie industry is symbiotic. They need us to watch and support their craft and we need them to bring us moments of relaxation and joy. If we want political commentary we can tune in to CNN or Fox News. On a Sunday night just before the start of a long week we look to the celebration of movies as a break from the demands of reality. We want to see the beauty and the pageantry of a world that we know is not real because we need to believe in dreams. The world is hard enough and ugly enough in real time. At the Oscars it’s nice to set all furor aside for a few hours just to escape. I think I’ve finally discovered a way to make the experience perfect.

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Saturday Mornings

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I can still recall those glorious Saturday mornings when I was still a child. My mom often slept late after a hard week of working, but my brothers and I anxiously awoke to watch the cartoons and shows made expressly for children. We’d sneak quietly down the hallway in our pajamas hoping not to disturb Mama’s slumbers and then tune in our television to our favorite programs in glorious black and white. We had to be careful to keep the volume low because the house wasn’t that big and too much noise would alert our mother that it was time to do the weekly chores. As long as she was snoozing we were free to spin the dial in search of wondrous shows that kept us glued to our seats for hours.

I’m too old to remember the exact order of the shows that we watched but some of our favorites were My Friend Flicka, Kit Carson, Superman, Sky King and Rocky and Friends. Television was still in its infancy but the programmers had already realized the power of devoting hours for children. We’d watch the advertisements for cereals and toys and then urge our mom to purchase them for us. Our mother was never one to be swayed by popularity, so it mostly never worked in our case, but we were nonetheless as enthralled with the silly rabbit longing for Trix cereal as we were with the latest adventures of our favorite heroes. Saturday mornings brought us unadulterated joy, and if Mama was especially tired we reveled in the freedom to just glue ourselves to the screen.

I enjoyed by own childhood memories of Saturday mornings so much that I taught my daughters the wonders of lounging in front of the center of entertainment for a few hours on weekend mornings. By the time they were enjoying the fare designed for their generation everything was in living color and most of the shows were cartoons featuring characters like Scooby Doo. They too found the magic of those early morning dalliances with fantasy while me and my husband enjoyed the luxury of a few extra winks while the electronic babysitter kept our children safely occupied.

Life isn’t quite as simple these days. For one thing there are hundreds of channels from which to choose and most of the big three of my childhood offer very little aimed toward children even on Saturdays. Kids now have to tune in the the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon which feature twenty four hour programming that doesn’t seem to be nearly as fun as what we got to see. Most of the shows are variations on the same themes with “hip” youngsters making fun of their elders and seemingly raising themselves. I grow weary of them after only a few episodes. The writers don’t appear to  be making any great effort to create stories that inspire. There is an inanity about them and a kind of condescending attitude toward young people that assumes that they are incapable of understanding stories with deeper meanings.

As a parent today I would have to install controls and be present to monitor the dialogue and the themes to be certain that they are in keeping with our family’s values. It’s a far more challenging world than the more innocent one that I experienced as a child. Back then care was taken to be certain that children were not exposed to material that was unsuitable. Of course I laugh when I think of Soupy Sales from my generation or PeeWee Herman from that of my children. We kids secretly knew that there was something not quite right about some of their jokes but we kept our thoughts to ourselves because it was exciting to live dangerously without our parents knowing what we saw and heard on those programs.

I still have a difficult time going into action on Saturday mornings. I don’t watch television anymore. I enjoy the quiet and I lounge in my pajamas for hours. Sometimes it might be noon before I choose to get going with the routines of life. Saturday has always been the one day of the week over which I have been able to rule without demands from school or work or my mom or even my children. These days I sit with a cup of tea and read or just listen to the sounds of the neighborhood in my favorite room. Saturdays make me nostalgic. I remember how easy it was to be a child when my innocence made me fall in love with the whole world. Soon enough I would grow and learn of the ugliness that lurks around us, but back then I didn’t have to worry about such things.

I truly believe that those Saturday mornings taught me more than most people might think. My brothers and I learned to be more self reliant as we made our own breakfast and chose our own programming. I found out how to care for animals and what justice is really about from my shows. I enjoyed laughter as a way to relax and feel good inside. My independence was rooted in those long ago mornings and the characters whose stories I watched are still my heroes. They widened my horizons and taught me about honor. I feel quite lucky to have had such experiences that brought happiness and routine to me at a time when I was still feeling uncertain about life without my father.

I suppose that today’s children have their own way of doing things, but I truly wonder if all of those scheduled activities that they do are as wonderful as the leisurely times that I enjoyed. In truth I suspect that when we are young we adapt to whatever is our reality, but I would sure love for youngsters to enjoy a taste of what we had. It was glorious.

Unforgettable

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I had a tea party earlier this week with my niece. We brewed tea from the Empress Hotel in a sweet china pot decorated with pink roses and then sipped it in china cups that once belonged to my mother. We enjoyed little cookies that were a gift from one of my former students. We placed our delights on pretty china plates and my niece pretended that the goodies were crumpets. Our little ritual was enchanting, and my niece asked if we could find a day to enjoy such a tradition once each week. She has already chosen Tuesday afternoons as a possibility, and she wants to try out each of my various pots and china patterns along with different types of tea.

My niece noted that folks often have beautiful serving pieces but rarely use them, instead storing them away in cabinets for safe keeping. She thought it was nice that she was allowed to use such exquisite things, including some of my mother’s silver. Bear in mind that she is only in the fifth grade, but her wisdom and appreciation for the finer things is already fully formed.

Her comments and her joy got me to thinking about how we so often seem to wait for the perfect time to go places or use things, as though there is some magical moment for experiencing joy. All too often the so called best time for enriching our lives never actually comes. So many people die never having realized the dreams that dwell in their hearts.

Just last week I attended two funerals, one for a very young man and the other for someone only slightly older than I am. Both of them were souls who fully embraced life with trips, marathons, music, sports and friendships. They were not the sort to wait until the time seemed right to experience life to the fullest, so I wonder why so many of us seem to do that.

My paternal grandmother served her meals on china and ate with her best silver every single day. Her meals were special from breakfast in the morning to dinner at night. She used ironed tablecloths and beautiful serving bowls. She was a premier cook, but I wonder if perhaps her presentation was as important in creating an ambiance as were her culinary talents. Everyone felt quite special at her table, even on hot days in the middle of the week.

I’ve known people who kept their nice dishes and linens packed away. Their furniture was covered with sheets or plastic. They seemed to be waiting for some spectacular hour which never seemed to come. When they died nobody had ever seen the beautiful things that they owned. Often much of what they had was bartered in estate sales or sent to Goodwill because nobody associated any memories with the items. On the other hand we all recall my Grandma Little’s table settings with vivid detail. My brother even attempted to duplicate her style with the china that he purchased for his Thanksgiving feasts.

Grandma shared her pride and joy with us. We ate her tasty cooking and enjoyed stories and laughter on her well used and well worn dishes. She provided us with a feast for all of our senses that burned beautiful memories into our very souls. She made us feel special with the extra care that she took to allow us to enjoy her things as much as she did. Not once did she worry that we might break something. Instead she focused on making us feel loved and honored.

I suppose that it is natural to want to care for things that are expensive and might break. We see our everyday items bearing cracks and chips and we don’t want to damage the finer pieces. We assume that it will be wisest to bring out our best only on very special occasions and mostly save them for posterity, but what is the point of that? Why even own such things if we are only going to lock them away?

I was overjoyed that my niece enjoyed our little tea party so much. It gave me an opportunity to tell her about her great grandmother who had once owned the pieces that we used. We spoke of my mom and dad purchasing one place setting at a time as young marrieds. I told her about my father very proudly buying my mother some of her silver only days before he so tragically died. She understood the love story that I was telling her and wanted to know more. The items that we used made the tales more magical for her. We walked upstairs where I showed her pictures of my mom and dad, her great grandparents, when they were young and beautiful. She asked me to provide her with copies so that she might never forget who they were and how they once looked. She also made me promise that we would have those regular tea parties without fail. She even wants to bring one of her friends if I don’t mind.

My mother-in-law taught me how to prepare tea properly, the way her English mother had done. Each Sunday after dinner we sat at the same dining table that I now have and sipped on brew in lovely china cups while munching on tiny cookies. She told me about her family’s journey from England and of those who once braved the wild frontier of Nebraska. Like my little niece I was enchanted and invariably when I think of my mother-in-law I remember those special quiet moments that we shared. The tea and the cookies, the china and the silver, the stories and the love made our ritual unforgettable.

I suppose that if I have learned anything it is that we need to wear our fine garments, use our best dishes, travel to exotic places, live life in all of it’s glory. We only have so much time with the people that we love. Why not make those moments so special that they will never forget them?

A Different Drumbeat

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It may surprise some of the folks who only know me in one narrow aspect of my life that I tend to be someone who marches to my own drumbeat. If, however, you consider the totality of my life it becomes a bit more apparent that I’ve mostly done things my way. At school and work I was always the “good girl,” that person who was loyal and dependable. I tended not to make waves, but when things became just too uncomfortable for my way of seeing the world, I usually left in search of a place that allowed me to be the person that I felt I needed to be. A few times I pushed the envelope a bit too much before departing, but I am proud to say that I stood up for the ideals that make me who I am.

I’m known as a very forgiving person, but I prefer to think that I have a knack for seeing and understanding differing points of view. We humans are a diverse lot, and it would be ridiculous to believe that there is actually a one size way of thinking that fits everyone. Only in certain extreme cases is it true that there is an identifiable wrong or right, such as with murder or hate. Most actions or statements that bother us are in reality simply different ways of interpreting or reacting to life. These are the gray areas that create tensions and rifts between people, and are the causes of our feelings of anger and even betrayal. It is in such instances that I have a knack for realizing that there are indeed many different ways of tackling problems, some of which seem contrary to one another.

Thus it has been for me my whole life which has given me the reputation of being a soft hearted person. The truth is that I am able to take a deep breath when I disagree with some person or situation and then very rationally analyze our differences without becoming emotionally entangled. My mother realized that I had this talent and often suggested that I should have gone into law and become a judge. She marveled at what she saw as my fairness, but to me this “talent” is just the way I am.

I suppose that my ability served me well as a teacher and later a school administrator because I was never too quick to rush to judgement of a student or parent or teacher. Instead I wanted to assess each situation not so much from my own set of standards but from the realities facing each individual. I often realized that a parent who was cussing me out was simply frustrated  and at a point of extreme confusion and hopelessness. By validating the anger and and really listening to concerns I diffused many horrific scenes and reached a mutual solutions to problems. In other words, I was able to see the driving forces behind behaviors that were far deeper than just rudeness or refusal to follow protocols.

Sometimes the unfairness of life has little to do with rules and everything to do with feelings. While we may not be able to understand someone’s anger, we can listen for the unspoken words that lead to their hearts. How each of us feels is so complex that actions and words alone may not truly reveal the truth of the matter. For that reason we need not be so quick to react. Sadly, it has become the way of society to tap out a few keystrokes to demonstrate either our approval or disapproval of anything and everything that we observe. Sometimes we do such things with complete strangers whom we cannot possibly know. It is a terrible habit that sometimes leads to violence from those with unsettled minds. We must be careful and a bit more kind lest our words or reactions fuel flames that are already burning. It is possible to change the course of history if we are cognizant of the power of our commentaries.

President Barack Obama was often criticized for noting that many individuals who turn to illegal activities are lost souls unable to find any direction or sense of hope in their lives. He suggested that helping our young in particular to find positive pathways might prevent acts of terrorism or violence. As an educator I believe that he is absolutely correct. I have watched young men and women change under the guidance and concern of someone who chose to help them rather than to grind them down. People seek acceptance and when they find it from the good, then they themselves often become good. When it only comes from those who are hateful trouble looms for all of us.

Notwithstanding those whose minds are so evil that no amount of kindness or understanding will help them, we each have the power to reach others simply by having a willingness to understand why they believe and act the way they do. It is not up to us to be judge and jury of their behaviors, but instead to demonstrate our care and concern. I know from forty years of working with people that such methods actually create miracles. Self-righteous behaviors are off putting for everyone. They presume correctness when there may not be a clear cut standard. Punishing, judging, ignoring are mechanisms that rarely have as much effectiveness as listening, teaching, understanding. 

A recent example from my own experience may explain the point I am attempting to make. It is a somewhat silly example that escalated into some very unfortunate commentaries on social media. It centers around an incident on The Voice, a singing competition on NBC. Over the course of a season the number of singers competing for the top spot are slowly but surely whittled down by the coaches and the viewers until there are four finalists who vie for the championship.

This season a most unfortunate dilemma occurred when one of the contestants became ill and unable to participate on the live show. The situation became even more complex when she was one of the three persons with the least number of votes from the previous evening. In such cases the performers sing a quick song and there is a so-called Instant Save by way of Twitter.  The young lady, who happens to be fourteen years old, could not sing, but the producers chose to allow the viewers to vote for her anyway based on past performances. In an ironic twist her coach, Adam Levine, had two members of his team in the bottom three and one of them actually sang that night. In a rather bumbled moment he praised the present team member for his performance, but noted that he could not just ignore how wonderful the young girl was and urged the viewers to consider voting for her as well. Surprisingly she ended us winning a spot in the semi-finals and at the same time became an object of rage along with Adam Levine.

I saw things a bit differently from those who were insisting that Adam Levine be fired and the young singer be disqualified. I suspect that Adam meant no harm in his crudely crafted plea. Instead I think that he felt terrible that such a talented young girl might lose her opportunity because fate had dealt her a blow at such an inopportune time. He tried to demonstrate his support for both of his team members, but it was all in all a terrible place for anyone to have to be. I suppose that no matter what he may have said or what ultimately happened he would have been criticized, but the level of anger was far beyond what it should have been.

When I suggested on social media that we all needed to put the situation into perspective and calm down just a bit I was pilloried as though I had defended the actions of Adolf Hitler. I was called some vile names and even told to just “shut up.” I ended up congratulating all of the talented singers and wishing them the best in the future as well as noting that the variety of opinions being expressed was part of life. Nonetheless there were those who were intent on vindictiveness. Ironically I understand and accept them as well, but worry that our society has become so filled with anger that we become unhinged over a television program. There is so little willingness to forgive in today’s world and that is a tragedy.

I suppose that we will one day grow weary of the ugliness and things will ultimately change. I already see signs that give me hope.

Working On The Inside

Tricia's Podcast

I have a dear friend, Tricia Miller, who is a brilliant and talented woman. I met her when she and I taught together at KIPP Houston High School. I eventually became the Dean of Faculty there and she became one of the College Counselors. We shared a special kinship from the very first and became close friends. Even after we had both the left the school we worked hard to maintain a close relationship with one another that has only grown stronger over the years. At first we mostly got together for celebratory occasions with other women who had also once worked at KIPP. Eventually Tricia and I called upon one another for advice, knowing that together we usually found the wisdom that we needed to tackle the problems that invariably crop up in everyone’s lives.

Tricia became a licensed therapist and did private counseling along with continuing to work with students while I began living the life of retirement. I know from personal experience how good she is at seeing both the pain and joy that lingers in people’s hearts either propelling them forward or holding them back. On more than one occasion she has helped me to find answers that I was seeking and encouraged me to have the courage that I needed to be my personal best. She is what I call an active listener who knows how to pose important questions and then sit back and truly hear the true meaning of what is being said. She is quite good at understanding the essence of people, sometimes even more than they do themselves.

This past summer Tricia decided to develop a podcast that would feature short stories of people who had overcome daunting challenges. I was honored to be one of the guests that she chose to interview, and so I one day found myself sitting in her sunny kitchen talking as friends while she posed guiding questions and recorded my answers. I had been a bit nervous about speaking into a microphone and I worried that I might stumble and stutter as I spoke, but Tricia created such a relaxed atmosphere that I soon forgot that my words were being saved for posterity. I was able to speak from my heart and not worry about how I might sound.

Tricia worked with intense dedication for months to interview individuals, edit their responses, and create a series of quality podcasts with topics intended to inspire listeners. Her efforts resulted in thirty minute episodes in a podcast called Working From the Inside that is currently listed on Google Play, Spotify and Apple iTunes. Her guests are diverse and earnest in sharing their stories of overcoming challenges and finding empathy and support in sometimes unexpected places.

Tricia decided to launch the episode that featured my interview as a gift to me just before my seventieth birthday. The theme of the spot focuses on the mentoring and compassion that I encountered in the sometimes winding journey of my life, particularly with regard to my career. Happily she edited my chatter to include the expressions gratitude that I have always felt for certain individuals who helped to guide me in my work and in navigating through the difficulties that invariably arose along the way. I was able to honor important people like my English teacher, Father Shane, the members of my neighborhood, school and church community, professors who inspired me, principals who helped shape me into a real educator, and elders who demonstrated sacrifice and love when I most needed it.

I hope that the listeners will be able to look past my soft, slow drawl that comes from my Texas background as they hear me speak. It is a trait that sometimes marked me as someone who was insignificant and perhaps also weak. I wanted people to know that even a seemingly shy and sheltered female is able to find grit when given enough encouragement from caring people, and I certainly had my share of kind souls who helped me to become the person that I am today. My story is one of countless moments in which I found good people who understood me and helped me to overcome my weaknesses and fears. Of course, Tricia Miller is one of those very special souls who took the time to really “get me.”

I’d like to invite everyone to look for Working On the Inside with Tricia Miller, M.Ed.,LPC on Google Play, Apple iTunes, or Spotify. Subscribe today and then sit back and enjoy Tricia’s creative talent and the stories of her incredible friends. I have little doubt that you will be inspired and will become a fan.
Tricia has created a kind of oral history of the life and times of our era. Her guests are diverse and from many walks in life. The common thread that binds them together is a determination to overcome even the most horrific difficulties that life throws at each of us. Tricia has such genius and empathy that she is able to bring uncommon honesty to each episode. I’m certain that listeners will find nuggets of wisdom and hope from meeting Tricia and her guests.