All It Takes Is A Little Love

We think of ourselves as very modern souls devoid of superstitions and yet some of us still enjoy playing silly games online that claim to give us insights into ourselves. Thus it was that I took the bait and tapped a few keys to supposedly find out what my bywords for 2023 will be. I had to gaze at a hodgepodge of letters and quickly find the first four words that became apparent. With my slight dyslexia and difficulty seeing well on a computer screen it took me more time than it should have to finally notice the words, strength, alignment, lessons and money, in that order. 

Of course the list of possible words encased in the randomly placed letters were undoubtedly so generic that they might apply to anyone who managed to find them, so it was not surprising to me that they somehow resonated with me. It was no doubt pure luck rather than some incredible dive into my mind that led my eyes to the four words that I eventually found. Looking at them I also realized that each of us might interpret their personal meaning in different ways. 

Like most people my life has been a serious of ups and downs, victories and challenges, happy times and sorrowful ones. I learned how to take each day one step at a time long ago. That is not to imply that I’m always optimistic, determined and calm, but that I eventually find my way back to a resigned determination to simply keep moving forward in spite of the roadblocks that have come my way. The truth is that it is rare for success and happiness to come easily for any of us. 

If I have learned one lesson it is that every single one of us struggles at some times in our lives. It is quite rare to sail through a day, a week, a month, a year without difficulties taunting us, making things difficult for us. From small annoyances to life changing tragedies we are constantly challenged to find the strength to use our talents, our skills, or beliefs to be our better selves. It is virtually impossible to avoid difficulties in our lives even if we try to isolate ourselves from realities that threaten our happiness. 

Life is hard work and as adults we would do well to teach this important lesson to our children. We may see individuals who appear to have had an easy time learning, succeeding, finding the key to happiness and bounty, but if we take the time to study them we almost always find that they have quietly put forth great effort while others only dreamed and talked about improving their situations. 

I’ve often said that happiness is not a mirage or an attempt to run away from sorrow. It is a state of mind that comes from facing our problems head on and understanding how to find joy in small things. If our optimism depends on extravagances outside of our hearts and minds we will struggle to love ourselves and the people around us. Happiness is simple and yet we make it so complex. 

I have found a kind of alignment to guide me for most of my life. I would be a liar if I were to claim that I am always beholden to the advice that I give others. Like anyone I sometimes fall apart from the pressures of life. I feel sorry for myself, worry incessantly, complain that I am somehow more beset upon than others. I allow myself to wallow in self pity for a time, but then I face my difficulties and step by step get back in the game. I force myself to do small tasks, then bigger ones, to use my mind to consider solutions to my dilemmas and then to try them. I try to be open and honest with myself and with people that I trust. I arrange to be around people, outside of myself, attempting to focus more on helping others than obsessing about my own woes. It’s not as noble as it may sound, but it is a way for pulling myself out of the doldrums that plague me now and again. 

Who would not enjoy having more money? It would seemingly erase many of the worries that we have. I try to think of money with perspective. When I’m worried I try to remember that I am more fortunate than most of the population of the world. I think of how delighted the people starving for food and freedom would be if they had all of the luxuries that I take for granted. I realize that with only a few small sacrifices I might live much more frugally than I presently do. I really do not require more so I should be wishing that someone less fortunate might fine the gift of money this year, not me.

The lessons I have learned have helped me to align the trajectory of my life and have made me strong. I have enough money to be comfortable and free from hunger. Somehow the words strength, alignment, lessons and money are less important to me than the word gratitude. I don’t have to play a game to understand that being thankful for what I have should be my byword for 2023. I have been fortunate through all of my life. I do not need more. 

I grew up as one of a baker’s dozen of cousins. They were my go to family when I was growing up and for the most part we stayed incredibly close to one another even after we moved out into the world and began our own families. Sometimes months or even years would pass before we actually saw each other in person but our bond was so strong that we were able to pick up conversations as though we had talked with one another the day before. I never once recall feeling distant or uncomfortable with any of my cousins. We have always been one great big happy and sometimes crazy group. 

Laughter and mischievousness tend to mark our gatherings which have centered around special birthdays, anniversaries and deaths of family members in recent times. In the beginning we were the second generation of an immigrant family. All of our parents were born in the United States over a period of thirteen years after our grandparents arrived from the area of Europe now known as Slovakia around 1913. The first generation American siblings stuck together like glue both as children and adults so my most faithful and long lasting playmates were my cousins. In many ways I always felt more like I had ten brothers and two sisters instead of just the two boys born to my mother and father. 

Leonard is the eldest of the cousins and the undisputed leader of our clan. He is more than a decade older than I am so when I was a little girl he was mysterious to me with his teenage ways. He seemed to be more akin to my mother who was the youngest among my seven aunts and uncles. I vividly recall attending his wedding when I was no more than seven or eight years old. I thought he was stunningly handsome and that his bride was a princess. As I matured over time the gap between our ages seemed to narrow and I learned that Leonard was as fun loving and likely to play jokes as the younger cousins had always been. 

Leonard’s brother, Delbert, was also considerably older than I was. I remember spying him being a typical teenager when I visited my aunt’s house with my mother.  He was rather handsome and I often bragged about him to my friends. I would later have serious and intellectual conversations with him in which he would tell me what my grandfather was like and how my father had influenced him. 

Alan, Ingrid and Paul were the next cousins who were all born in the same year which was only one year before I came into the world. Jack was born a few months after I was. These cousins were always part of my life. My mother took photos of them sitting near me in their strollers, scampering about as toddlers, learning how to ride bicycles and attending our first days of school. I could talk with them about anything. I always felt safe and loved with them even when our jokes poked fun at each other. 

Andy, my brother Mike and Rick came next. They were the little brothers who joined our games and made us older ones become a bit more responsible as we looked after them. In short order my brother, Pat, and Sandra the only other female cousin, came along to almost complete our close knit group. In a late surprise we were joined by Bill whom we fondly called “Little Bill” to differentiate him from his father and mark him as the youngest of our group. 

I cannot imagine growing up without my cousins. They saved me from falling into the depths of depression when my father died. I saw them virtually every week of my young life mostly at my grandmothers’ but sometimes at family gatherings at the beach on Sundays. I can’t watch certain television shows without thinking of them because they were so often present when I viewed those programs. I laugh when I think of the games we invented together and the family newspapers that we created when it was too cold to play outside. Our shenanigans were legendary. Not even Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn had more fun than we did.

Eventually our family became more and more extended as we set out on our own, married and had children who then had more children. Leonard hosted several reunions and we celebrated the milestones of our aging parents. The old Christmas and Easter traditions that brought us together in my grandmother’s tiny home died with her. We went our separate ways but always found time to check on each other and gather again in both difficult and celebratory times. Then the funerals for our generation began. The first to go was Sandra, then Jack followed by Delbert. Just this past week Paul died as well. 

It’s difficult to watch our baker’s dozen become smaller bit by bit, but with each passing we remember how close we all have been through every single phase of our lives. The love we have had for one another has been palatable even when we did not always think alike. I am who I am because of them. A bit of each of them defines me. We will always be a baker’s dozen somewhat alike but a tiny bit different and always with a deep love for each other that is never to be denied.    

I was perusing newspapers and social media sites in the early morning much as I do each day. I saw an ad for a t-shirt emblazoned with the message “I have no shelf control.” Of course, the play on words had to do with buying excessive numbers of books, a habit that I have yet to learn how to curb. I’m a book junkie and have been for most of my life. 

I suspect my love of reading started with my father who had accumulated quite a collection of volumes of his own. His daily habits included listening to music and reading as soon as he came home from work each day. The nightly ritual included scanning the newspaper and sharing the funny papers with me and my brothers. After dinner or on weekends he might immerse himself in a new book or read the latest edition of National Geographic magazine from cover to cover. His taste in reading material was amazingly eclectic and might cover anything from classic fiction to volumes on future travels to the moon in a time before NASA even existed. 

I can’t recall ever passing a bookstore without going inside with my father. Trips to the library were weekend adventures. People still laugh when I tell them that our family’s exploration of Hollywood focused on spending hours in a multi-story shop filled with volumes of every kind. Our souvenirs were texts on how to tie knots and beautifully illustrated fairy tales. 

My father’s father was an avid reader as well, so I suppose that my own addiction to collecting and enjoying books comes naturally. It may not be in my DNA, but it was certainly influenced by my environment. Reading is comforting to me. I can lose myself inside the pages of a good story or recitation of history even when my world is turned upside down. It is a kind of therapy that focuses my mind and lowers my level of anxiety. it keeps me company and reminds me of the feelings and experiences that all humans share. 

My most prized possessions are books that my father and grandfather gave me when I was a young girl. I even have one that belonged to my daddy when he was only a boy. Its pages are brittle, yellowed, tattered and torn. The cover fell off even before my grandmother gave it to me after my father died. She proudly proclaimed that he never stopped reading once he had mastered the art of the process. He even made several failed attempts to teach her how to decipher the combinations of written letters that formed words. She was proud that he had worked to give her the gift of literacy even though the essentials of reading eluded her. 

I often told my students that there was no greater freedom or sign of privilege than knowing how to read. In the long history of the world literacy and education was often denied to all but very wealthy men and a small number of lucky women. Education makes us think and ask questions, a dangerous mix for those who want to stay in power and control certain members of the population. I warned them to beware of anyone who attempted to censor what they might read or even to limit how much education they might receive. 

It saddens me to realize that there are still places in the world were ignorance is forced upon certain members of society. Denying women the right to learn is an abomination. Neglecting to support public education is elitism. Unfortunately such situations are still happening even in our modern world. 

My father encouraged me to be curious. He showed me how fun reading actually is. He wanted me to push myself to be able to comprehend more and more complex ideas. Not long before he died he counseled me to challenge myself more than I had been doing. He explained that the great ideas of history came from tearing down the boundaries of our minds. He encouraged me to never stop reading and learning and to be grateful that I had the skills to become ever more knowledgeable about all facets of the world. 

I suppose that his influence has bolstered me throughout life. I have six large bookshelves scattered through my home. There are books sitting on tables and nightstands. I have volumes stored in drawers and trunks. There are many more texts stored on electronic devices and large baskets under my coffee table. I’ve culled my collection now and again just to make space and each time I have regretted letting any of my books go. I comfort myself in knowing that I have shared my wealth of books with someone else.

I am my father’s daughter. I purchase books for newborn babies. I respond to teachers’ requests for book donations to their classrooms. I buy books on virtually every trip that I take. I have to pay extra fees for the weight added to my suitcase by volumes that I was unable to leave behind. I get a warm feeling sitting in a bookstore or walking around a library. My father’s legacy has brought me much knowledge and contentment. I suppose that I will never have shelf control.

I’m still fascinated by the seemingly instantaneous collapse of the mega company Enron. It’s demise was actually years in the making, but its problems were so carefully hidden that even most of the employees had little idea that troubles were looming. The documentary, The Smartest Guys in the Room, tells the story of arrogance, lies and secrets that created a toxic and destructive environment that was certain from the start to lead to trouble. 

I’ve always been curious about those who possess an exaggerated sense of their own importance. On the one hand I admire their confidence and willingness to take risks, but on the other hand I abhor their almost narcissistic belief that they are indeed more likely to have all of the answers than the rest of us mere mortals. I suppose that we need such souls in some ways because people like me constantly question ourselves and tend to hold back because we are so fully aware of our limitations. We are unlikely to believe that our ideas are necessarily better than others. 

Nonetheless, we’ve all encountered people and organizations that are almost haughty in their certainty that they know how to do things better than the rest of us. They possess the audacity to shut down discussions that demand give and take. They push their philosophies and beliefs on the people around them. They are often unwilling to work with others, instead insisting that things be done their way or not at all. Their power grabs are often successful as they appear to be in control of themselves and the world around them until someone has the temerity to question them or to note the emptiness of their thoughts.

In the present day we seem to be overrun with people who claim to know what’s best for the world even to the extent of refuting experts who in reality know far more than they do. They argue and boast to the point of taking the air out of a room and instead filling it with their personal opinions. They belittle anyone who poses questions or offers alternative suggestions. Over time they tear down relationships and wreak havoc where they live and work. When things go wrong they moan and groan and blame everyone but themselves.

There were honest souls who came forward at Enron to warn of discrepancies that did not seem to support the company line. They were smugly ignored, ostracized,and often asked to leave. Instead of listening to everyone, the company followed the loudest and most obnoxious individuals gave them the power of lead positions. By ignoring warning signs of wrongdoing, the lies and deceptions ate away at the integrity of the company and its shocking demise was as rapid as the fall of financial giants in the early two thousands would later be. 

On a personal level we have all witnessed individuals who are all too quick to assert their wills over the people around them. They haughtily argue that they are the gifted possessors of all of the answers that we need. Because nobody has a chance of contradicting them, they take center stage while everyone else sits quietly pretending to comply with them. They create a fantasy world for themselves that may look good on the surface but is little more than a cardboard facade.

The real heroes of the world possess a quiet humility and a willingness to analyze a situation and seek answers for discrepancies that they find. My grandson, William, is one of those people. He sits quietly through an uproarious discussion only to speak once he has honestly assessed all of the ideas. More often than not his methodology leads to pearls of wisdom if not perfect answers. We would all do well to adopt his style. 

Perhaps we need to be reminded that many of the world’s greatest leaders were humble men and women who understood that great leadership comes from a willingness to hear all voices and only then make decisions based on the general good. This is true of friendships, families, organizations, businesses, and governments. Dictators generally end up only doing what is best for them. Their agenda is to keep power and nothing else. The wise person always understands what others need and strives to honor everyone by actually listening to and hearing them. 

We have so many upheavals in the world today that are making us feel uncertain and even at times misunderstood. They are found in the halls of our government and those around the globe. The art of working together seems to be rather unpopular right now even in personal relationships. We are dominated by those who think they know it all while ignoring those who have important things to say. We pretend that all is well when we know that much is very unhealthy. We have generally been as fooled as the world was about Enron and we envision a collapse of things that we hold dear. 

What has to happen is a resurgence of  integrity and humility in all facets of our lives. Our healing demands respectful and honest communication rather than loud performances designed to hide the truths of our situations. We can change for the better but we will have to demonstrate a willingness to turn down the volume of the domineering fakers and work together in a spirit of compromise and good will. 

The best friendships are based on mutual trust. The best families sacrifice in a spirit of honesty and love. The best businesses honor everyone’s contribution. The best government bring the citizens together. Perhaps if the Chinese calendar is right in predicting peace and hope in 2023 we may be on the verge of saving our most sacred institutions just by giving everyone a voice. It seems that the smartest guys in the room are not the loudest, but instead the ones who quietly and humbly speak the truth. 

Christmas has come and gone.and it feels as though Christmas 2023 is a long off as we hunker down in the new year. Somehow though I find myself thinking of the classic movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Despite being irrevocably associated with holiday viewing, the film has a message that should resonate all through the year. 

Of course we all know the story of George Bailey, a man who had dreams of traveling the world, leaving his small town behind and living a life of learning and adventure. Sadly he found himself having to accept the cloak of responsibility for his loved ones over and over again. He lost the opportunity to attend college when his father died and he was chosen to take over the struggling family business. A run on the Savings and Loan that he managed interrupted his plans for an exciting honeymoon. The births of children sidelined his dreams of making big changes in his life. Ultimately he is threatened with jail time and loss of his reputation and business after his uncle loses a large cash deposit. 

All of his struggles come crashing down at once and he literally questions whether his life has even been worth living. That’s when Clarence, an angel, enters to show him what the world would like if he had never lived. He learns that even small things that he had done had a dramatic impact on the people of his town and even a ship filled with soldiers in World War II. Without him many lives would have been broken and sorrowful and even lost. 

We sometimes don’t stop to think how much our actions affect the people around us. We underestimate the effect of a smile or a wave. We cannot imagine how important each of is in the grand scheme of things. Everything changes if any one of us never existed. Our reach may be small, but it is important to those around us. If we understand that, we are more inclined to be the best versions of ourselves. We strive to be kind, to observe when others are struggling, to give of ourselves rather than taking the air out of a room. From day to day the little things that we say and do have the most profound effect on the people we encounter. It would be nice if we each had an opportunity to actually witness our overall effect on the world around us so that we might either improve our presence or stay the course of how we live. 

Many people create goals for themselves and very successfully achieve every one of them. Others, like George Bailey, have terrible things happen to them at the most inopportune times. They have to constantly adjust their visions and dreams to care for the people around them. They probably wonder if their sacrifices are even appreciated. If we don’t tell them how will they know how much they mean to us. They may even begin to feel like failures just as George Bailey did when life no longer seemed worth living. 

I wish that I might reach out to every person who has impacted me in a wonderful way. Some of them did incredible things for me and I don’t think I ever fully let them know how much they meant to me. I got busy with life and only thought about what I might have said to them when it was too late. I experienced that when my Aunt Rosemary died and when I lost my dear friend Sharon. If only I had picked up the phone and called them or written a little note describing how important they were to me.

I often think of my Uncle Jack Ferguson who guided my family through the most difficult early days after my father had died. Without Uncle Jack we would have been little lost souls set adrift in a sea of troubles. With his folksy knowledge and always pleasant humor he found us a house in which to live and a car to get us around town. He set us right on our journey without a dad and he kept checking on us ever after. I know that I never told him how much I loved him or how thankful I was for all of his help. I took it for granted that he knew. I hope that is so. 

My mother’s best friend Edith helped me when I was so confused about how to get medical help for my mother when she had her first terrible episode of mental illness. Not even the priest at our church was willing to give me guidance, but Edith stood by me and my mother with a love that gave me the courage I needed. I lost track of her over time and never thought to purposefully create an opportunity to describe how much she had meant to me. I am sorry for that because she literally guided me to find a strength within me that I did not know was there. 

So many incredible people are responsible for the sum total of who I am today. They enlightened me, showed me how to be compassionate, modeled integrity for me. Sometimes I only knew them from afar but their influence was dramatic. I suppose that it so for all of us. 

We encounter good people every single day of our lives who make a difference in how we feel about ourselves. Their existence is crucial in changing our world for the better. Missing even a single chance moment with them might have changed the trajectory of our lives. Think about who those people are. If they are still alive spend a few moments on each day of 2023 taking the time to tell them how important they are. We never know when that opportunity will be gone or when that person will believe that they have accomplished nothing. Give them the gift of gratitude. They need to hear what you have to say. Remind someone of how wonderful life has been because they entered your life.