The New Year: In Others' Words

Ring out the old, ring in the new,Ring happy bells, across the snow:The year is going, let him go;Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

…Alfred Lord Tennyson, poet

People wiser than me have drafted resolutions for and reflections on the turn of the page that signifies the transition from one year to the next.  Perhaps some of their words will be helpful to you as you ponder your own hopes and dreams for 2014.

• Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.  Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist
• Your success and happiness lies in you.  Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.  Helen Keller, activist 
• Let our New Year’s Resolution be this: we will be there for one another as fellow members of humanity, in the finest sense of the word.  Goran Persson, politician
• For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning. T.S. Eliot, playwright
• Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.  Mark Twain, humorist
• I make no resolutions for the New Year.  The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life is too much of a daily event for me.  Anaïs Nin, author
• You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.  C.S. Lewis, theologian 
• Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.  Steve Jobs, CEO
• The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.  Eleanor Roosevelt, columnist
• Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. Henry David Thoreau, naturalist
• Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.  Winston Churchill, Prime Minister

  
• Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each New Year find you a better man.  Benjamin Franklin, inventor 

Wishing you a peaceful, prosperous, and healthy New Year!

Marilyn

Don't Go to Abilene

Nearly twenty years ago I tried an experiment.  I saved all of my holiday cards and opened them on Christmas morning.  The idea evolved out of the changes within my circle of friends and family when we started shifting from the tradition of gift-giving to doing something special together during the year.  As much as I agreed with abandoning the excesses of the 1980s, I worried about how I might feel with no presents to actually open on Christmas, and that’s when I came up with the idea to hold the mail. 

So, on daybreak of that December the 25^th, I curled up with Kimberly Katt (Millie’s predecessor), a cup of coffee, and a pile of news and wishes and pretty scenes.  Carols were playing in the background.  The hugs and greetings across the miles were better than any stack of boxes.  So, while there have been a couple of instances where I’ve missed an invitation or been a little late in sending off congratulations based on what was in a card, the experiment has become my tradition.

I’ve observed that some folks are struggling with traditions this season:

*        Some aren’t feeling up to the old traditions, whether it’s baking the cookies or decorating the tree.  That’s ok.  Take a year off.  See if you miss it or how you feel about it next year.

*        Some like me are in a new home.  Everything may not fit or you may need more decorations, but a move helps sort treasures from the ‘stuff.’

*        Some are in a new relationship or a new phase.  From baby’s first Christmas to a first holiday alone to hosting aging relatives, take heart in the fact that there are no rights or wrongs, only memories to make or cherish.

There is a Harvard study about a family’s trip to Abilene that is used in an organizational development process.  The gist of it is that early one pleasant afternoon as a family sat around on their front porch, someone floated the idea of a Sunday drive to Abilene.  The next thing everyone knew they were piled in the car for the hot ride.  Hours later when they returned home, exhausted, it finally was revealed that no one had really wanted to go – everyone thought they were the odd person out with no desire to make the trip.

Traditions matter.  But every so often they need to be examined to ensure they are still relevant.  So, this season share the origin of one of your traditions with a friend or around the family table.  Is it still working for you, connecting you to your past, fostering your present, or offering meaning to the future?  Does it need to be tweaked or even abandoned?  Make sure you are honoring the tradition’s meaning and not traveling to Abilene.

Have a blessed holiday,

Marilyn

Santa and the Tree

When I was four Santa brought not only the presents but also the tree.  And then he stayed and decorated it!  When I came downstairs that Christmas morning, the grown-ups waiting to watch my amazement and wonder at the transformation of the living room included my parents, grandma and her cousin Jenny, and Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Bob.  I hope that my reactions met their expectations.   My only memory of the day is my mother saying, “Santa only does this once for every child.”

By the following Christmas, the year I got my Annie Oakley outfit and a Japanese doll sent by my brother who was stationed there, things had changed.  A kindergarten classmate had spent her minute at Show & Tell really telling.  By the next year Grandma was gone, my brother was married and living in DC, and I was old enough to begin to understand and look forward to some traditions.

Four has got to be the perfect age for the magic of the season.  As an adult I can appreciate all of the work that went into that one evening, as the family lovingly created a corner of wonder for a child.  I hope there was laughter amid the stress of “more lights on top” or “too many red ornaments together,” that music was playing, and that those elves retained fond memories of that holiday night.

My four-year-old self remembers one other thing about Christmas that year.  The anticipation.  There is no picture of me sitting on Santa’s lap, but there is this, the picture of me that Christmas Eve, innocence, ready for bed and looking forward to the surprises ahead.  This season may we all find that piece of ourselves that can relate to wonder.  Whether for you the surprise is the babe in the manger, the need is the promise of a fresh start in a New Year, or you enjoy the camaraderie of peace on earth symbolized by time with relatives rarely seen, I hope you are able to approach the end of 2013 with a childlike view in some parts of your life.  

You may be amazed at what that child truly finds.

Marilyn

When Words Lose Their Meaning

Author John Updike wrote, “Our brains are no longer conditioned for reverence and awe.”  I wonder if that is because for most of our waking moments we are bombarded with words.   The invasion is constant. The content consists of diverse and divergent images and marketed and imposed feelings.  I think we’ve become immune to some words’ intended impact and meaning.

As an author I love words.  I love learning new things about words.  Did you know that a flock of buzzards is called a ‘wake,’ a group of eagles is a ‘convocation,’ and a gathering of wrens is a ‘chime?’  I relish joyful situations where ‘words are not enough’ and grieve those circumstances when ‘there are no words.’  We all chuckle at some Old English, wonder what Shakespeare really meant, and marvel at poets whose concise language evokes intense images and feelings.  I cringe with misuse, shake my head at the ‘word of the year, and wonder what Daniel Webster would do with some modern language. 

Three things converged to raise this issue.  I just spent a week with someone who continually used ‘awesome,’ a word that has evolved from its original use of ‘causing feelings of wonder and fear with a sense of reverence’ s far back as the 1500s, to being slang for ‘excellent.’ 

The second thing is that the world lost an awe-inspiring leader this week.  To call Nelson Mandela awesome is appropriate, and, I will grant that even today’s definition of excellence applies; however, the overuse of the word makes it inadequate and I long to use it in his memory. 

Finally, this is a time of year when I think the original meaning and modern definition are both called for.  Hanukkah and Christmas are seasons of miracles.  I’m hoping for the miracle of good will from all to all around the globe.  Now, wouldn’t that be truly awesome?

Marilyn

Football and Charlotte's Web

On a recent business trip my choices for dinner were limited.  The hotel shuttle would take me to any of the few places on the Island that were open and the driver recommended a local grill for good burgers or seafood.  That’s how I ended up in a sports bar on a busy Saturday night, extra busy because the local team was playing.  As I sat alone watching the activity projected on the 10 screens visible from my vantage point indoors and listened to the enthusiastic fans all around me, I thought about the first time I ever ate alone in a restaurant.   It, too, was a Saturday, but I went out for breakfast since that was the suggestion in one book on being an independent successful woman. 

Now, this was 40 years ago, a time when going out to eat as a form of entertainment and connection (“let’s do coffee”) was just becoming a norm, and the National Organization for Women wasn’t even a decade old.  After parking my blue bug (nicknamed Sapphire) down the block, I confidently walked into Tiffany’s, a restaurant on Park Boulevard in Glen Ellyn.  When the hostess asked, “How many?” I croaked out, “One.” 

I had picked that place because several coworkers and I went there frequently for lunch so I was familiar with the layout, atmosphere, and menu.  I followed the hostess to my table for two, one of four tables for two lined up by the front window.  First dilemma – do I sit facing the interior of the restaurant or look outside?  Either way, everyone, of course, will be looking at me sitting alone.  Do I want pitiful fleeting glances from those walking by or constant stares from fellow diners?  I actually opted for facing in, sat, and she took away the other place setting, the true symbol that I was alone.  

The second dilemma came after ordering the French toast.  I had brought a book, which was another suggestion from the authority on dining out.  Well, I discovered that small tables for two are not really conducive to reading, so there I was with my prop and no way to use it.  I put it on the table across from me so it was still my companion.  I felt awkward but I made it through the meal listening to the conversation of the two guys next to me who were planning a camping trip and thinking about how walking into and sitting alone here was so different than at school or college. 

Since then I’ve eaten alone at hundreds of restaurants around the globe and mostly enjoyed those times.  But I had to make that first uncomfortable step.  For those of a younger generation, I hope you understand what a big deal that actually was for me and also that it was symbolic of one small freedom women were struggling for.  I’m sure guys can feel out of place in the same situation and I don’t mean to minimize anyone’s break out behavior, but society – then and in some cases even now – frowned on a woman dining alone.

Anyway, back to the title of this musing.  On nine of the 10 screens in the sports bar I was in last month there were several games of football being broadcast, but on the tenth one, way at the end of the bar, there played the movie Charlotte’s Web.  I found it all comfortable and charming.

Marilyn

Substitutions

One year a friend and I were going out for Thanksgiving dinner.  She called a couple of restaurants and asked if they were serving real turkey and made reservations at one that said yes.  When our meal arrived, it was rolled turkey loaf, that meat equivalent of plywood.  We asked for the manager, who, when we explained that our meal was not what we expected based on the phone conversation, apologized but stated that what they were selling was indeed real turkey, just not carved from a bird.

We come to understand the concept of substitutions in elementary school when faced with a different person standing at the head of the class.  It’s not fair, but we somehow interpreted that ‘substitute’ did not mean ‘equal’ and first graders long for their ‘real’ teacher to return.  Unfortunately, that concept has been strengthened by a bad experience with ‘fake,’ be it fake fur that did not keep us warm, or someone who turned out to be a fake friend.

We’ve gotten used to a lot of food substitutes – sweeteners in small packets, whipped cream in a can, imitation butter in a plastic tub.  There are hydrated potatoes and onion flakes and reduced fat cheeses.  Silk flowers and replica art pieces adorn mantles.  Unbreakable plastic dishes sit in cupboards.  Synthetic materials hang in our closets.

Some of these alternatives are actually healthier plus they may save time and money or even our environment.  Our tastes can shift and we actually prefer diet drinks to regular, low sodium salami, and light mayonnaise. We’ve heard stories or seen All About Eve where the understudy gets a break and becomes a star or watched a game where the 2^nd string athlete is sent in at the last moment and makes an outstanding play.

Many of us will gather around a table this Thursday to celebrate with family.  For some, that family will be substitutes, our family of the heart, because distances of all kinds separate us from relatives.  For some, the substitutes have become real through adoption or blended and foster families.  Some of us may simply settle in front of the TV or monitor or curl up with a book, alone by choice or circumstance, creating our own substitution for the feelings the Norman Rockwell Freedom From Want painting represents.

However you spend Thursday, may you experience one genuine connection, and may that connection remind us all that there is no substitution for our relationships with one another.  For those I am most grateful.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Marilyn

Two for the Road

What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness? John Steinbeck

By the time I started kindergarten I knew there were boys and girls and that Santa put kids into two categories: naughty or nice.   A couple of grades later friends fell into one of two activities – dance or music lessons.  The families in my neighborhood were Protestant or Catholic and some of us were good at sports and there were non-jocks. 

Through high school and college we experienced the ‘study all along’ vs. the ‘cram for exam’ groups, encountered friends who were of the ‘on-time’ or ‘always-late’ variety, and came to know who were morning or night people.  Then there was perhaps the hard lesson that there are givers and there are takers.  We learn compromise when one is a neat freak and the partner a casual housekeeper.  Financial advisors bridge a gap between spenders and savers.  We enjoy talking books with both fiction and nonfiction readers.

When I was a consultant and led workshops on leadership I would include a section on understanding other ways that we are wired differently and how such diversity can benefit one’s life and the workplace.  Now, as a mentor, I try to pass on these tidbits I wish I’d known about earlier in my life and career.  Some of them we can control or change.  For example, I might ask a young colleague how they want to be known – as someone who blames others or one who takes responsibility and stands accountable?    However, most of these other ways in which we are opposites reflect how we process things or view the world.  These characteristics reflect who we are, so while we may not want to – or be able to – control or change them; it will truly help us in our relationships if we understand ourselves and the natural tendency of others to be different.

ü  Some people think-to-talk and others talk-to-think.  One cannot lead a brainstorming session nor have great discussions without taking this into account.  Otherwise we talk-to-thinkers take over and half of the team remains silent. 

ü  Some people are what and others are how.  Big picture and idea people need the balance of those who are process and strategy.

ü  Some people talk facts while others talk feelings.  Even being a writer and knowing the importance of details, my natural inclination is the essence of the story not whether the man’s shirt was red or orange or the if amount was $22 or $22.22.

What other learnings about our differences do you wish you’d known earlier in life?  Let’s take a minute today to celebrate – viva la difference!

Marilyn

The Gift Exchange

Part of me misses the holiday shopping I saw going on in stores this weekend.  I used to enjoy the hustle and bustle, the search for that special item. These days my friends and family and I give each other the gift of time, a shared outing, or donation.  One reason we no longer do presents was that we came to know that often we weren’t satisfied with the gift and would exchange it.

I wonder what life would be like if we could exchange one of our talents for something we truly desire.  I’m not talking about when we successfully make radical changes.  What I mean is, what would you and I do if offered the opportunity for a true gift exchange?  Would you trade in your math skills or your ability to play the guitar for a chance to be a great photographer?  Would you give up being a mediocre cook to be a famous chef?  Perhaps you’re tired of being good at or the best at golf and want to master watercolors or crochet. 

Other things that one can argue are gifts in our lives are our circumstances, persona, viewpoint, body, and soul.  What if the gift exchange were extended to those?  I cling to the hope that in the next life I’ll be tall and willowy, but I don’t know that I would give up my early years as a musician just to experience that here and now.  Well, perhaps I would change out being able to give myself a decent manicure for a few more inches and fewer pounds.

What do you consider your greatest gift?  Patience?  Being a loving friend or mother or father?  Would you give that up in order to have a dream?  Notice that I’m not playing fairy godmother and suggest all you need to do is to ask for your heart’s desire.  This gift exchange fantasy calls for sacrifice, for one thing we all know about the best gifts we give ourselves is that we work for them.

Having given thought to what gifts you might like in exchange for something you do have, let’s close with a thought from Gian Carlo Menotti: “Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts that we have wasted, of all that we might have done but did not do.”

Let’s celebrate and use the gifts we have.  We live in a country that allows us to do that.  Thanks to all who serve who have made that so.

Marilyn

Equal Time

After commenting on last week’s blog about my father, a friend pointed out that I rarely have written about my mother.   “Hmmm,” I said.  “I’m sure you’re right.”

I believe that my experience is not unusual, that a parent and child can struggle a whole lifetime and never truly understand one another. They can each long for that special bond that is supposed to be there.  They can work very hard to either continue to search for ways to find that deep connection or develop masks that say to the rest of the world it is there while knowing it is not.  They can develop a love that makes a relationship, but, if they do not accept and embrace and work on that relationship rather than the one they wish they had, it is never enough.

All relationships contain dichotomies and interesting contradictions. On some days it is the differences that spark the right amount of tension but on other days it is what the two people have in common that provides strength.  While my mother would have never called herself a feminist, she was one. Well, an early one, who had ambition, worked outside the home, even for a little while after she married, in an era when most women did not.  When a guest speaker at her church circle had them start off an exercise by simply writing their name at the top of a piece of paper, she was one of the few who understood the facilitator’s point when it was revealed that 100% of them had written “Mrs. Husband’s First Name Last Name.”  She tried to not limit or define herself by dad’s name after that.

She was a lifelong learner, was good at most things she tried, and had an opinion about everything.  She valued her friends and loved nature.  Her competitive streak developed early in her life and continued even when she couldn’t speak or shuffle the deck but still wanted to play cards.  It was over cards we had the best times.  Somehow that shared activity provided a venue for talk and laughter.

You know how some things tickle your fancy and in trying to describe what is so funny, it just gets lost?  This is one of those stories. My mother’s and my biggest laugh came on a summer day in 1962.  We were returning home from a picnic with relatives at Niagara Falls.  Growing up in Buffalo, trips over the Peace Bridge connecting the US and Canada were common and easy. That day we picked up Aunt Alice and Uncle Reg from their apartment in Fort Erie and had a lovely afternoon.  Later, at customs the Canadian officer asked what was on the back seat.  “Just the rest of our lunch and some berries I saw,” my mother said. 

He waved us on.  About halfway over the bridge we started to laugh at that description, both of us laughing until there were tears.  Up to the week she died we could mention that afternoon and both of us would smile.

Memories can warm or chill.  I’m glad my friend encouraged me to find warmth from a different source for this week’s musing.  Wishing you courage to find an old smile as well.

Marilyn

Trick or Treat Kisses

Dad’s body died on Halloween more than 25 years ago.  His spirit had been gone for a while.  On that day, I found it bittersweet and oddly comforting that he left us on All Hallow’s Eve, the time of year liturgically when we remember our dead. 

My brother and I were with him when he breathed his last.  As we sat vigil that morning after a very long week of waiting, Ron and I talked quietly about Halloween’s past.  He didn’t think that much was special about the day during his childhood, at least not until the pranks of his pre- and early teen years.  Our dad was a prankster and some of that rubbed off more on Ron than on me.  In dad’s time the tricks were overturned outhouses.  My brother’s, as I recall, most often had to do with buckets of water and a surprise drenching of his buddies. 

So much has changed since I was a young trick-or-treater.  It was probably 4^th grade before I had some say in what I was going to be for Halloween.  There were no specialty stores for  costumes and decorations.   There was no concern about the treat your neighbor put in your bag and no orange lights, big purple spiders, or garbage bag ghosts and pumpkins up and down the street.  And one big difference is that in Buffalo we celebrated Devil’s Night (October 30^th) so we had two nights of trick or treating.  The first night you learned where to return for the homemade caramel apples, popcorn balls, or the invitation inside the house for hot apple cider.

My first spin-the-bottle kiss was at a Halloween party in 7^th grade.  I was wearing my dad’s blue jeans and old flannel shirt, attempting to be a hobo.  Nearly 30 Halloweens later I lightly kissed my dad goodbye.  

Kids don’t trick or treat where I live or work, so I don’t have to stock up on treats.  But, if I did, it would be candy kisses.  If you haven’t purchased what you’ll be distributing to the princesses, robots, and pirates that ring your doorbell, perhaps that’s what you could buy on my behalf, and I hope you’ll smile each time you give away a Halloween trick or treat kiss.

Marilyn

Lessons I Learned From...

…My cat

Try again.  Millie can have trouble jumping.  She miscalculates the distance between the floor and the seat on the gold swivel chair, particularly now that she’s a senior feline.  When she misses, she sits where her failure landed her and does what cats often do.  She licks her paw and swipes it across her face, covering up her embarrassment with a nonchalance air of, “that’s what I meant to do.”  Then, she tries again, because, after all, the sun streaking in on the soft cushion is awfully inviting. Try again.

…The sofa

Comfort isn’t always good.  For ten years I’ve comfortably – both in terms of routine and enjoyment – curled up on the sofa in the early morning and in the evening to read and write.  There are non-matching tables with lamps at either end so I have switched sides and have faithfully rotated the three sofa cushions, but the cushions now sag and the springs are less than springy.  This has forced me to try the other places in the living room to sit and I’ve gained a whole new perspective.  And my back feels better.  Comfort isn’t always good.

…My piano teacher

Make music with what you’ve got.  Miss Schaff, the piano teacher I had from 6^th grade on and who helped me prepare for my college audition, had spina bifida and spent much of her day in a wheelchair.  Even when your feet can’t reach the pedals you can still make beautiful music and help others to find the music within themselves.  Make music with what you’ve got.

…My car

Whimsy is important.  For nine years I drove a lime green 2002 VW Beetle nicknamed Sherbie.  Hardly a week went by in all those years when someone didn’t say to me, “I like your car.”  Kids always waved.  Like all Bugs, it came equipped with a plastic vase in which I put a something bright and seasonal and which added a sense of quaintness to my driving time.  That car made me smile.  Whimsy is important.   

…Back to the cat

It’s ok to ask for attention.  While a cat may be famous for its independence, Millie actually shows me that independence and belonging can coexist companionably.  She asks for attention when she wants and needs it.  Whether it’s a howl from another room, a jump onto my lap, or a very strong head butt that announces “I’m here,” Millie is quite intentional about letting me know it’s time to stop doing what I’m doing and be a playmate or hostess.  It’s ok to ask for attention when you need it.

What life lessons have pets, people, or objects in your life taught you?

Marilyn

Shades of Yellow

Growing up in western New York, an area dense with maple trees, autumn meant vibrant red and orange leaves for viewing, raking, and burning.  While I’m still partial to those colors for autumn, I’ve gained a great appreciation for the yellows and golds prevalent here in the Midwest and have adopted yellow as my fall color.

A primary color, yellow signifies joy, wisdom and intellectual energy, which is maybe why yellow pads of paper are associated with certain professions and canary Post-Its are the most common. Yellow slickers keep us dry in all seasons when we are outdoors and a yellow ducky helps kids enjoy the water inside.  

Perhaps because yellow is the first color the eye recognizes, it is the color of caution or warning, but in some cities a yellow traffic light means that drivers still pull into the intersection to turn left or a pedestrian considers it safe to cross the street.  Look for yellow school buses and taxicabs in Western cultures.  Recall the famous Yellow Submarine.  Enjoy rich butter on warm croissants, but remember it was the color of the required Star of David patches sewn onto clothing worn by Jews during World War II. Buddhist monks wear yellow robes.  While yellow universally makes us think of gold and wealth, it is also the color of cowardice and sensational journalism. 

Yellow is an optimistic color.  Cheery chrysanthemums brighten our days as we gear up for winter, both the season and phase of our lives.  Songwriter Ervin Drake wrote, “But now the days grow short, I’m in the autumn of the year, and I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs...”  I had a hard time knowing I was entering my autumn years, although now that I’m in them, I’m thriving. 

It takes courage and hope to let go of the things of summer, to know that the fruits of that season are done.  But fall brings us squash growing on vines on the solid earth and apples ripening on sturdy trees.  In our autumn years we find new things that ground us and a variety of golden and delicious ways to continue to grow.  Whether you’re still in spring enjoying forsythia and daffodils, in sunny summer, golden autumn like me, or have become like saffron, enriched and very valuable, may there be cadmium yellow both inside and outside for you today.

Marilyn

Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage. Maya Angelou, poet

 

 

 

Early Morning Sounds

On school days my mother used to play the piano to wake me up and let me know it was time to come downstairs.  That got me through my elementary years until I was given an alarm clock and then a clock radio.  These days I wake up on my own, well before dawn, and hear the chirp of the cardinal mixed with the rumble of the train.  Saturday it was the sound of the cat throwing up (which is preferable to not hearing it and finding the result of that in the dark with my bare feet) that awakened me at 3 a.m.

In each new home it has taken time to learn the normal creaks of the building and morning routines of the neighborhood.  I’ve been in big cities, rural farmhouses, and campgrounds, on a plane, cruise ship, and bus at the break of day.  Seen the sun rise over the ocean, prairie, and mountain top.  Heard the thunder and the wind and enjoyed the beat of the rain on the roof and against the window while huddled under the covers.  Felt engulfed by the silence of fog or blizzard of white while straining to hear signs of life in the outside world.  Talked first thing with a newborn and the dying.  As a guest I’ve heard the sound of someone showering in another part of the house, the coffee dripping into the pot or tea kettle whistling in the kitchen.   

All of these are treasures, but the sweetest memory of early morning sounds are those long ago piano tunes. 

What brought that time to mind was when I had one of those experiences that maybe you’ve had or need to know is in your future. The other day as I was typing I looked down at the keyboard and wondered when my mother’s hands got attached to the ends of my arms.  Along with her wedding ring I saw wrinkles and a brown spot that surely was not there last week.

Comedian Milton Berle said, “If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?”  I never saw my mother’s hands at the chalkboard in the one-room school house where she taught or at a comptometer which she studied nearly one hundred years ago.  But I think of those hands – Lois’ hands – and of what I did see them do.  A lot was in the kitchen.  Kneading bread, rolling out piecrusts, stuffing the turkey, cleaning the oven, putting the dishes away.  Then there was tending the garden, running the Electrolux vacuum cleaner, crocheting afghans, counting the dollars from the church’s collection plate and marking the ledger, cleaning the algae in the aquarium we bought for dad’s 75^th birthday.  There were tens of thousands of hours of faithful doing in the history of those hands.  It was at the piano that she relaxed.  But now that I think about it, even there she served her family. 

Perhaps today or this week you, too, will recall an early morning sound that takes you on a roundabout nostalgic trip to a smile.  It’s worth lying in bed at dawn and musing about.

Marilyn

Your Tax Dollars at Work

The only difference between death and taxes is that death doesn’t get worse every time Congress meets.  Will Rogers

As the headlines threaten a government shut down because of the few politicians enamored with their 15 minutes rather than the citizens they were elected to represent, I thought you might like a different story.  It’s about that check you write every April and its recent impact on me.

Last Tuesday we learned that we were the recipients of an $867,000 grant from the CDFI Fund, part of the U.S. Treasury Department.  Who is ‘we’ and what’s that Fund?  We is Accion Chicago, the nonprofit where I work, and the CDFI Fund (stands for Community Development Financial Institution) invests in organizations whose mission is economic development in distressed neighborhoods.  Collectively the 5 U.S. based Accions covering regions from coast to coast received more than $7.1 million.

What will we do with that money?  Continue to help entrepreneurs make their dreams come true, thereby creating jobs and stabilizing neighborhoods while providing for themselves and their families and for the next generation.  We serve the historically marginalized – women, minorities, low- and moderate-income residents, immigrants, the formerly incarcerated – small business men and women unable to secure financing from traditional sources. We serve those with no or troubled credit histories OR as the economy tanked, those with ok credit and a solid business plan but who banks won’t talk to because their need is too small. 

Our loans, ranging from $500 to $50,000, enable a ‘microentrepreneur’ to launch or grow a business.  It could be the new boutique, doggie day care, pastry shop, food truck, jewelry retailer, salon, barber shop, contractor who remodeled your kitchen, or the new restaurant in your neighborhood.  These funds could be behind a product you buy at Macy’s or the mobile dentist who parks outside your local elementary school. 

If you’re in the Chicago area and available on Tuesday, November 5^th, come and meet some of these enterprising people and my Accion colleagues at our annual Taste of Accion.  Tickets are only $100 ($50 is tax deductible) and available at www.accionchicago.org.  Our clients in the food and beverage industry cater the event, others fill the silent auction table with their product or service, and others will share their story at the podium.  That’s 3 kinds of ‘tastes’ for you to experience and see evidence of your tax dollars at work.

So this week’s blog isn’t a musing, and while it is a promo, I hope it also helped to offset all of the frustrating headlines out of Washington.  Sometimes those political folks do good.

Marilyn

Oscars, and Emmys, and Tonys, Oh My!

You and I don’t have to worry about the paparazzi as we go about our daily lives.  We don’t walk the red carpet to get to a special occasion nor are we athletes skipping down the Playoffs, Olympics, World Series, Oh My! yellow brick road. Our path is more like Weddings, New Babies, Reunions, Oh My!

It’s good to have traditional events that provide a rhythm to the months of the year and that mark significant points in our lives individually and as part of a group.  Such events – graduations, vacations, and even watching the Emmys – are part of a cycle that comforts, well, until it doesn’t, or until something breaks the pattern.  For example, I no longer watch the awards part of the show because I’m not familiar with the majority of nominated programs or actors.

I remember a Dear Abby (or Ann) column from, well, obviously decades ago, before expectant parents could know things about their baby.  It was a letter from a parent explaining their reaction to the birth of a special needs child.  In essence it said that waiting for their baby to be born was like planning a trip to California.  They read up on San Francisco, Santa Barbara, and Sacramento, researched climate, studied the local economy, and felt fairly confident they knew what things would be like once they got there.  When their child arrived, however, they discovered they actually ended up in North Dakota.  It wasn’t what they expected or wanted or had prepared for, but once they got there, it was ok. 

It’s important to hope.  It’s great to plan, but it is necessary to adjust to what comes our way.  Just like the actor and athlete who thought they would win but didn’t, we all experience times when our name is not called or the bat does not connect with the ball.

Agatha Christie wrote, “One doesn’t really recognize the important moments in one’s life until it is too late.”  Some people had a very public important moment last night.  I’ll bet you recently had a quiet private one.  It’s not too late to give yourself an award to mark the occasion.  Whether you lost two pounds (Leading Actor in the Constant Struggle category), got promoted (Supporting Actress, Paid My Dues), or handled an argument gracefully (Director, Drama) – claim your 15 minutes in the spotlight and share your story!

Marilyn

That's What I'm Here For

The nurse responds to the call button and the patient says, “It really hurts.  Please give me something for the pain.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

A weary airline passenger needing help with connections approaches the information booth and sees a friendly face.  “I’m really turned around and don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

You thank your boss for helpful feedback on an important presentation.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

While dealing with an inquisitive toddler new parents discover a passion and ability to nurture.  A recent graduate lands a dream job.  Newlyweds learn to balance their discord and harmony.   Inwardly they all sigh, “Ah, that’s what I’m here for.”

Do you ever feel a need for a deep down understanding of “That’s what I’m here for?”  I can tell you some things I’ve learned from dear ones which to me indicate, at least in part, what they’re here for.  One friend’s joie de vivre is infectious and reminds those around her to appreciate every moment and every beautiful thing. Another is a great risk taker and shows us that the safe path isn’t necessarily the most rewarding.  I know thoughtful decision makers who can help others process tough issues, careful listeners, and practical doers.  I am lucky to have friends with sympathetic shoulders and ones who will challenge me to think and explore.

But when I hold up the mirror to think about Robert Byrne’s sentence “The purpose of life is a life of purpose,” I wonder if I’m fulfilling my purpose.  I have a sense of calling and contentment that I’m where I’m supposed to be and doing what I’m meant to do but have never internalized it on the broader scale as “That’s what I’m here for.”  I’m going to ponder on this.  Meanwhile, I’ll follow what the Dalai Lama has said, “Our prime purpose in this life is to help others.  And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.”

Marilyn

When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor.  It is to enjoy each step along the way.  Wayne Dyer

Vinegar on Spinach

Going to a friend’s for supper on a school night was rare, but there I was with Bonnie at her family’s dinner table.  This was an era when families sat down together as soon as dad got home from work to eat meat-and-potatoes meals prepared by stay-at-home moms.  That evening, as the dishes were passed, I saw there was spinach.  I put some on my plate and remember commenting that lots of second graders didn’t like spinach, but I did.  Then I looked around for the vinegar.  In my house we put a few drops of vinegar on cooked spinach, poured carefully from the small cut glass carafe kept just for that purpose.  There was no vial of vinegar on the table, so I watched to see what this family did.  As the butter dish was passed, everyone took some and put a pat of butter on their spinach.  I did too.  Thus came one of my first experiences of ‘people do it differently’ and discovering I could enjoy those differences.

Do you remember a similar circumstance that awoke the idea of options and seeing that there is more than one way?  

Part of me wants to end this musing right here, offering a nostalgic reflection that might make you

smile and think of your own awakening to the concept of preferences.  But part of me pushes on to wonder about paring down today’s world problems screaming in the headlines to vinegar vs. butter.  From fashion to football to foreign policy there are differing opinions and options.  Those options can make or break reputations or fortunes.  The consequences of those differences can result in life or death. 

When the prevailing opinion informs us to buy blue or orange, wear wide or skinny ties, short or long skirts, we may go along, wanting to fit in.  One team studies the opposing team's strategies and go-to plays.  Local and global issues become so complicated that I wonder if anyone truly understands them for often there are deep historical complexities and discord is the norm.  Yet people, individually and collectively, can cross the line from option to judgment to right vs. wrong. We stop seeing a person, a culture, a nation, a whole, and see only the issue that divides us.

Certainly there are rights and wrongs in the world and things worth fighting for.  Let’s not confuse those things with tribal preferences of vinegar vs. butter.

Marilyn

“To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive.”  Robert Louis Stevenson

 

 

Little Words, Big Impact

The ‘buzzworthy’ headlines this week about the new words added to the Oxford dictionary (didn’t they just make you ‘squee?’) reflecting changes in the global culture and use of language got me thinking (don’t we all deserve a little ‘me time?’) about some of the earliest words we learn and how they are more important and their impact much longer lasting than ‘cake pop.’

“Up!” demands a child practicing a new word and understanding its meaning.  She’s learned that upstretched arms accompanying that plea will result in being lifted off the floor and returned to someone’s loving arms.  “Up!” said the pioneers when they encountered the Rocky Mountains and scientists repeated, looking to the sky.  Our world became smaller as we settled the continent and flew into the centuries of aeronautics and space travel.  Investors want numbers to trend upwards and each baseball season, players want their own and their team’s stats to rise.  “Up!” is where believers looked and watched as their resurrected Jesus ascended into heaven with a promise to return and not to leave them alone in the meantime.

“Down!” cries a child at the beginning of a pout and with lots of squirming.  It is an early

word that means the beginning of freedom and independence, ultimately signifying ‘let me go.’  Curious then that ‘down’ is what oppressors mean when they withhold rights.  It is a word a trainer uses in teaching a puppy proper behavior and how we describe a broken computer.  ‘Down’ is the place people look when they walk because their self-esteem is low and ‘in the dumps’ is how we feel when the blues settle in for a visit.  Dieters hope the scale cooperates, consumers want lower prices, and bicyclists appreciate the easier ride on the downside of the hill.

“In” tells us what to wear, where to be during a storm, and what crowd we’d like to hang with. “Out” may excite a dog but scare or hurt someone who feels excluded or different, yet “out” is where they go to make an announcement about that difference.  “Stop” can keep us safe and “Go” send us in new directions.

There are myriads of one syllable words from our earliest learning stage that helped mold us and frame our view of the world.  Take some time this week to reflect on those simple small words and the huge impact they’ve had on your life.  If you’ve a favorite, I would hope you would “Share!”

Marilyn

Fitting in or Flitting In . . . and Out

Several weeks ago in the post, Will You Be My Guest?, I invited readers to take a chance to write a blog.  Please welcome the first!  Today's guest blogger is someone who has spent a lifetime enjoying words and having to use them carefully in social justice initiatives around the world.  She and Marilyn met nearly 20 years ago during a time of transition in both of their lives and her musing today is a result of some reflections as she experiences another one of life's major changes.

 

 

Some of us spend much of our lives trying to "fit in"-- at a new school or job, in a new neighborgood, or with new friends and family members.   When in that process do we know we have arrived?  What signals a "good fit?"  It can be agony trying to fit in, trying to find some sense of balance, comfort and nurture.

 

I've always assumed (even socialized to believe) that the "fitter" was the norm.  Someone who could put down roots, make deep friendships, commit to a meaningful job and family.   But what if being a "flitter" is just as valuable and as much of a gift?   What if moving among people and in places you love, so that you don't have to give up precious moments in special places with friends and family members who are significant to you, is just as valuable?

 

I've only lived in a few places in my lifetime, for long periods, with commitments to people and place and work, but also manage to "flit" around to be with people left behind in one of those periods, who still have a piece of my heart or  are connected by blood, even in far off countries.   So does that make me a "Fit Flittler?"   By some standards, it makes me an outsider, perceived by some as unable to totally settle.

 

Who's to say that restlessness, fueled by curiousity and a sense of adventure isn't a gift as well?  It might be time to let the criticism roll off and move into the expansiveness provided by flitting. .   My regard for people who  stay put and root and nurture those around them is great, so there will always be that little sense of envy . . and guilt. 

 

How about you?  Ae you a Fitter or a Flitter?  Which one suits your life and personality and spirit?

 

 

Fan Club

It’s one of those times of year when a local PBS stations is doing a fundraiser.  That means the schedule has shifted to those musical specials to entertain and encourage donations from viewers. When I was channel surfing the other day I caught an intermission from a show dedicated to groups of the 60s.  The broadcasters were talking about how so many of those bands and singers had a record number of fans and fan clubs.

I don’t say this often enough – I’m a member of your fan club.

I think you’re terrific.  You are great at what you do and at being who you are.

And because this is a fan club made up of people who actually know or have known you and not one of those clubs of anonymous admirers, I also know you have insecurities, faults, have made mistakes, and even have failed at something.  That’s ok. This fan doesn’t hold you to any higher human standard than she holds herself. I’ve admired how you’ve ultimately triumphed over hard times.  My life is enriched because you have been or are in it.

Know that I’m in your corner, and I believe that whatever life throws at you today, you can handle.  Maybe not easily, but as well as you can.  Beautifully.  Graciously.

So, this fan encourages you to go out there today and be your best true self. 

Marilyn

Really, that’s it this week. 

Well, if the words and the genuine feelings behind them made you smile, maybe you’d like to forward those to someone in your life.  Just a suggestion from a true fan.