If only...

...The pilot could have axed down the door
...The police officer and citizen could have communicated
...There were easy answers
...I knew then what I know now
...Church bells and the call to prayer rang in neighborhoods instead of gunshots
...Life lessons weren’t so hard and we didn’t have to keep learning them
...Birds would stay still so I could take the perfect picture
...Things worked as they are supposed to
...The magic that exists in the world cured all ills
...The lure of power that we all have wasn’t most important to some
...We each got one major do-over
...More people meant, “I’m sorry” and then backed it up with some action
...“Have a good one” and “have a nice day” weren’t mandatory phrases
...This list couldn’t go on for pages

Marilyn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Concert etiquette

The last two Saturday nights I have attended concerts. One featured a volunteer orchestra and chorus and the other showcased professionals and students on a musical path. As a side note, there was a bagpiper at each concert.  More important, both nights included annoying behaviors by fellow concert-goers sitting in front of me. At the first one, two women frequently commented behind cupped hands while at the other, the couple’s irritating actions took on several forms. Again there were the frequent whispers, but he bounced in his seat or kept time by bobbing his head or foot. She helped to direct the music with hand gestures. Her head on his shoulder led to smooches.

Here’s the sequence of my internal conversation the first night:

“I’ll bet they’re sisters and they have a father or mother on stage.”

“Do they think they are at home watching a movie?”

“Maybe if I kick the back of their chairs as I cross my leg they’ll stop.”

“I should loudly whisper to my friend, ‘Can you believe how rude some people are?’”

“I should just lean forward and ask them to be quiet.”

“They’re not really being noisy, just rude.”

“Calm down. They seem to really be enjoying the concert and it’s good they are here supporting whomever.”

“Relax and enjoy the show.” 

The other night it was a similar sequence, although that couple’s behavior was much more distracting and I had a harder time relaxing and concentrating on the performance. There were eight year olds in our row who were more polite than those two fifty-somethings. I felt most sorry for the people sitting next to the lovebirds for their seats bounced right along with his and their arms got bumped as she fidgeted to move closer to him. 

There were many years when I would have actually done most of those things that went through my mind. That was until I came to realize that I live by a double standard. Why is it ok when I wave my finger to co-conduct during a favorite piece but not ok for someone else, or for me or my companion to make a private comment but others can’t talk?  

Sure, there are times when the distractions are beyond acceptable and need to be addressed, but norms, things like theater and concert etiquette are changing. I recently enjoyed a movie where we each had a comfortable recliner, a moveable tray, and could order food with the flick of a switch. I’m not keeping pace with these changes and I don’t know what to do about it. Pease let me know if you’ve got it figured out.

 

Marilyn

Are there smells in heaven?

The other day as I was reading the results of a study where people ate less when the aroma of what they were eating was pumped into the room for longer and higher levels of intensity, the odd thought of “I wonder if there are smells in heaven” popped into my brain. And then I wondered why I had never wondered about that before.

So, in the one version of heaven – you know the one where I’m tall and willowy, catching up with my grandmother while petting my cat – we’re in a newly mown meadow drinking freshly brewed coffee with a chocolate factory nearby, behind the lilies of the valley pasture that is walled with lemon trees. There’s also the scenario where our spirits are all in the same place but we each smell only things we love and there are no allergies or scents that will trigger a migraine.

What we hear about heaven both as we are growing up and even as adults can be pretty vague. Streets paved with gold, mansions over the hilltops, treasures, angels, choirs, harps, clouds, pearly gates. Many people do not like uncertainty or too much room for interpretation, so they may take comfort in those literal images and the feelings that they generate.

I know many do not believe in an afterlife. To them, this world, this existence is all there is. Some days I can understand that because this world, this existence, each day is what we all have. My problem is that most days collectively we are screwing this world and our existence on it up so badly that I have to believe there is redemption and accountability somehow, somewhere. Evil perpetrators must be forced to stand in the middle of the worst garbage dump imaginable with whatever smells they hated in this lifetime wafting by for all of eternity.


The images and emotions that I like best are in C.S. Lewis’ The Last Battle, the final book in the Narnia series. Lucy, one of the heroines, picks a handful of wild violets. She tries to convince some stubborn characters that they are not seeing things that are there, but when she puts the bouquet under their noses, they accuse her of sticking filthy stable-litter in their faces.


Does that mean it’s all a matter of perspective or intent? Could be. Lewis is a master at metaphors and these stories end in a place where the children begin new adventures that are just a continuation of the ones they have been on throughout the seven books. I like that idea, the idea that we simply continue on the adventure. That means eons of eucalyptus and wild violets.
Marilyn

Out of the ordinary

We all have our routines and things in every aspect of life that we like and which are comforting. Sometimes it’s nice or even necessary to shake things up a bit and try something out of the ordinary.  Saturday was predicted to be our first day that would be sunny and warmer. A friend and I decided to do something we hadn’t done in a long time. We planned a road trip heading out to rural Illinois.

It was a good omen when I saw a peregrine falcon as I turned onto the Eisenhower Expressway heading west and then heard a cardinal as I got out of the car in my friend’s driveway. It wasn’t long before we saw a cooper’s hawk watching activity zooming along I-80. We passed farmland which is always a nice reminder of the hard work that goes in to meeting the needs on my grocery list. Gas prices were lower than what I’d paid at Costco a couple of days before. At a rest area a man was feeding peanuts to squirrels who were unafraid of those who walked by.

I suppose Main St. in a village is not really all that different from State Street. They both have restaurants and shops and offices that advertise needed services. And, while the Thai takeout, tattoo parlor, and a closed KFC in downtown Princeton (population 7,700) might have been a bit of a surprise, it still had the small town feel that somehow sets it apart from Fifth Avenue. The parking lot at the Coffee Cup diner was full. I like to think that there are locals who breakfast there daily or meet for lunch every Saturday to catch up and that if someone doesn’t show up there is concern enough to go check.

Our own lunch was in a place that I’m sure has Friday night fish fries, Monday meatloaf, and a regular crowd like the diner. There was no piped in music. A patron said, “thank you kindly” to the server. A couple of hours in an antique mall where no one hovered or made browsers feel unwelcome included seeing a Roy Rogers and Dale Evans thermos and various sets of dishes that we have seen come and go. A mounted deer head was $999. Following Route 6 we turned toward Starved Rock where we watched bald eagles soar and dive for food in the Illinois River. Back through Ottawa and LaSalle and too soon we were back in the burbs and heightened busyness.

Memories of this out of the ordinary Saturday will make me smile for weeks, months, years to come. I wish you your equivalent of a rural adventure very soon.

Marilyn

Role models

We all have people we admire, look up to, wish we were like, or seek to emulate. At every stage of life it is comforting to see others succeed where we think we might fail and to see how they overcame. My early role models were Annie Oakley, Ann Sothern, and Annette Funicello. Oh, and Jesus, my mother, and Sandy, our neighbor who was six years older than me. Annie had great skills – she could ride and shoot, Ann had a sense of place with a great office and a comfortable apartment, and Annette was the nice Jill-of-all-trades. As a ‘tween I shifted to Nancy Drew who was surrounded by supportive people and had adventures that included a hint of danger.


Right out of college I met some wonderful women. Robin had taken a man’s job in manufacturing during WW II and fought to keep it when the men returned from the war. She was among the first women to go through training in the Episcopal Church to assist at services, including giving communion. She saved and bought a pretty little blue house and drove a yellow Carmen Gaia. Lydia worked downtown and had a husband whose job had him travelling around the world and who brought her home treasures as well as the little liquor bottles from the airlines. Cinda battled cancer, raised two children, and was a global citizen.


In the Mary Tyler Moore era I was expecting to make it to the glass ceiling within Illinois Bell as I worked my way up the management ladder. I had my sights set on Division Manager. There was one woman who had made it that high and she and I could look eye-to-eye. The best boss I ever had was a woman who gave me great advice on getting ahead and she too believed it was our time to move up.


Do we ever outgrow looking for role models? Somewhere along the way we look at the early ones and either strip away things we really don’t like or even turn away from them altogether. But, even now I meet some free spirit, someone who has a contented full life and half-joking say or think ‘I want to be her when I grow up’ or ‘I want his life.


When I think about it, those people have a few things in common. They are lifelong learners. They accept and enjoy who they are and readily share that person and what they know. They are generous in other ways. While I might not agree with how they go about it, they care about a greater good and have a sense of responsibility to do something.


I realize that a constant through the phases of my life has been appreciating female authors. From Louisa May Alcott to Louise Penny these women have been trailblazers for stories. I don’t know how much they or any of the other real and fictional people have actually influenced my character, outlook, or even success, but I am grateful for the experience of knowing them personally or from afar.


If you had to make a similar list of role models, who would be on it?
Marilyn